Daughters of chaos
by Erwal
Summary: Forgotten and rejected, Siggy Bjornsdottir tries desperately to find her place in a world that doesn't want her. From wild child to an accomplished shieldmaiden under Sigurd's commands, she made herself quite the reputation. With her friend, Angrboda, she sets sail to the unknown to find the place where she belongs.
1. 1-01: Beginnings

Siggy stared at the ceiling, laying on her rough bed made of straw and fur, her blonde hair spread over her bed. Outside, she heard Helga and Angrboda talking to one another and heard Floki working on his boats below the house. Siggy roammed the blanket of thick fur underneath her body with her fingers and fell on a tiny piece of carved wood. She lifted it to her sight and smiled. She made progress. Sure it wasn't as good as Angrboda's carvings, but she made improvements.

She heard a person enter the house and instantly knew who it was. She could have recognized that breathing and those steps even in the blackest of nights. She straigthened up on her bed and smiled to Angrboda. She looked at Siggy with a pained expression, nervously stroking her long blonde hair – as long as her mother's. As if she pitied her.

"Your father summoned you." she said.

"Boda." Siggy sighed.

"Right." she said with an amused smirk, her hazel eyes sparkling with affection. "King Bjorn summoned you."

"I do not know why it is necessary to call him king." Siggy said.

"Because he is king."

"No. He is king of nothing. His mother rules for him. She sits on the throne by his side in Torvi's place. She rules for him as if he was merely a child. Bjorn is not a true ruler."

"Siggy." Angrboda sighed.

"Alright. Let me just wash my hair and put some jewelry on."

"I don't think it is needed. Bjorn will not care if you show up like this." Boda said with a shrug.

"Perhaps. But I want to please Guthrum." Siggy said blushing slightly.

Angrboda giggled silently. She poured water in a bucket and handed it to Siggy as well as a piece of cloth. Siggy washed her face and headed to her chest. She opened it to find the rare bracelets she had. She shrugged and took all of them and put them around her wrists. She adjusted her apron, her skirt, and her brooches, tied her axe on her belt and braided her blonde hair.

"How do I look?" she asked her friend.

"You are marvelous. As always. I do not know why you never do any efforts to look more feminine. You are such a beautiful woman."

"Beauty does not matter. Only strength does. I do not want to be beautiful if I am not fearsome first."

"Perhaps." Angrboda whispered. "But I am tired of you messing with my work! This week alone, you came home with more bruises and cuts I'd wish to see you have! Try to respect my hard work a little and stop fighting for such silly things!" she said sternly.

Siggy's eyes widened in fright and a brief moment later, she smiled with affection.

"I will think about it. You are too frightening when you are mad Boda."

Angrboda laughed and went to sit by the fireplace to skin a rabbit.

"Did Sigurd tell you when the next raid will take place? I want to fight." Siggy said.

"I do not know." Boda answered. "I suppose it will be this Summer. There is still ice at the end of the fjord. And if it is to come back with injuries, you can bet your ass that I will tie you to your bed until Ragnarok."

"Why are you always talking about Ragnarok?" Siggy whined with a shiver. "You are like Floki; gloomy and unhappy."

Boda laughed and slapped Siggy's shoulder. "Don't tell me this, I might end up bald like him! Can you imagine my head without my hair?"

Siggy faked a shiver. "Dreadful."

"Is it!"

"Shit!" Siggy cursed. "Now my apron is redder with that rabbit's blood!"

"Sorry." Boda said.

"Oh well, it would have been stained with blood either way."

"Because you plan to fight today?" Angrboda coldly asked.

Siggy laughed. Angrboda was so easy to tease. "Not if I can't help it."

Angrboda sighed in annoyance. "With your temper, you'll die, murdered, before your time."

"That would be dishonorable." Siggy said. "Only a coward kills someone in the back. Christians does that. They are treacherous." she stated. "I'd rather die in battle, covered with glory and fame. Like the late queen Gunnhild of the Danes and Brynhildr, Aslaug's mother."

Angrboda tried to laugh but could not. She hated to hear Siggy, her precious Sig, talk about death in such a fashion. She knew Sig loved to fight and desired more than anything to prove herself worthy of her father and mother's legacy; to prove she was a daughter of Odin, but she also cared about her. She cared about her like a sister and also a mother. She loved her and every harm she suffered, Boda was pained of it. She was pained Siggy was so angry. She was pained she sought death.

She also was pained of the loss of Aslaug. She was pained her mother missed her as well as Siggy the old; Siggy the wise. She was pained of this game of power which led every ruler in Kattegat to die. The throne was cursed and Angrboda wished someone would break the curse and restore peace in the empire Ragnar left when he died a few months ago. Boda was pained Aslaug died in such a fashion she would never reach Valhalla. Aslaug had taught her how to heal – as well as her mother, the sweet Helga – and the art of magic. That knowledge, Boda was proud of. Thanks to it, she gained a strong reputation amongs the people of Kattegat. She was respected.

Siggy was not. Siggy was mocked and feared. Rejected daughter of a king who let his mother rule in his place, Siggy was laughed about which often led to broken noses and bloodbath wherever she went. Siggy was a wild child born born chaos who grew in battle; Siggy had a mind set for war and destruction. Siggy was born angry.

"But that does not answer my question." she said. "When will we raid again? Has Ivar told you of it?"

"I am his personal healer." Boda said. "Not his mother."

"So?"

"I do not know, Sig!" Angrboda exclaimed with annoyance. "He hasn't told me yet!"

Siggy sighed. "I want to raid." she said, looking at the ceiling again. "I want to escape this place."

Angrboda gave a sad smile. "Yes... I understand."

"There is nothing here for me." Siggy said. "My future is elsewhere, I know this. It lies beyond the sea."

"One day, you will find it. I promise." Angrboda said. "In the meantime, your fath... sorry, Bjorn is waiting for you."

"Do I really have to?" Siggy whined.

Angrboda gave her a stern look.

"Alright." Siggy said, leaving the house. "If I find Sigurd, I will ask him. Ivar too."

"The sons of the blacksmith went hunting. Sigurd and Ivar are probably with them." Angrboda said, her eyes, back to the rabbit she was skinning.

Siggy shrugged. "We'll see"

She gave a last smile to her friend, still skinning the rabbit by the hearth, then left the room. On her way to the village she greeted Helga, who was harvesting some herbs and shouted a 'hello' to Floki, below the house, who was building the ships Bjorn had asked to sail that mysterious sea with no tides. Floki did not answer, but a silence between the sounds of hammers striking the keel of new ships told her that he heard. Siggy walked towards Helga.

"Be kind to him, Siggy. You mean to him more than you can possibly know." Helga advized, turning her head to her.

"I doubt that Helga." Sig replied. "Floki is right. You see the good in people too much."

"I see people such as they could be. There is a difference. Be kind." Helga said.

"I'll try." Siggy sighed. "But do not have too much hope about me. I am not worth it." she said in anger.

Helga looked down, saddened. Siggy wanted to apologize, but stubborn as she was she simply sighed and walked back towards Kattegat and the great hall where she would be standing in front of Bjorn Ironside, son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok. Or maybe she would stand in front of his mother; the shieldmaiden Lagertha, the one who murdered Aslaug in her madness following the death of the man she loved for so long, to give her beloved son the vacant throne of a king who abandonned his kingdom and his people. The one without honor. The coward.

But Aslaug abandonned Siggy; she had been told of this by Sigurd. She once promised Bjorn to take care of her as her own, but she failed. She let her down, wandering with poor rags in the wild. She promised and did not keep that promise. Aslaug was to raise her, take care of her, but she did not. Siggy did not expect her to love her, but care and attention would have made her childhood sweeter.

"She betrayed me." Siggy often said when people asked her about Aslaug.

And yet, she taught Boda magic and healing. Yet, she had been kind enough to ask servants to make sure she was healthy a few years later, maybe to make up for Siggy's first years. Maybe to erase the madness she was in. Maybe to be herself again; to be Aslaug, the mother and the great seeress.

Siggy resented Aslaug, but she felt torn between the hatred she felt towards Lagertha for never even asking about her and for never doubting her son, and the hatred she felt towards Aslaug, for betraying her promise to raise her as the princess she should have been. Siggy was tired of this. She was a coin; undecisive in her anger, two-sided. The coin was full but its faces divided. One side had to win and yet, she wanted to hate the two women until Ragnarok.

She looked at the ground and sighed with content. Spring was there, and with it, the possibility to raid again. She wanted to fight again, to feel blood spatter her face and to hear her enemies' screams of pain. To feel her sword pierce their hearts and cut their flesh, hear her axe break bones and ribs. She wanted to dodge blows also. She wanted to feel that sensation she often felt in battle, to be on the edge of death. She wanted danger. She wanted to risk her life; to make sure she truly existed. To exist in a world that did not want her.

Lost in her day-dreams about battles and raids; glory and death, she did not notice that she had already arrived in Kattegat. She was drawn out of her mind by Sigurd, who called her from the forge he often spent his time at.

"Siggy!" Sigurd called.

"Uncle." Siggy greeted him with a smile.

Sigurd flinched and gave a long annoyed sigh.

"I told you not to call me this." he said. "I am only a few years oder than you are. Please do not age me more than I am." Sigurd begged. "Just call me Sigurd, or Sig."

"You are my uncle. Why shouldn't I call you what you are, uncle Sigurd?" she teased mischievously.

Sigurd gave a groan of anger but smiled. He loved his niece. In spite of her bad manners and her teasing, he appreciated the fact that she was alive and often looked up to him. He appreciated the fact that she was like him; neglected and abandonned by her own parents. He appreciated that, like him, she sought a place in the world. She was like him and she understood him. That was something he liked about her.

"I asked Boda if you were planning to raid soon." Siggy said. "Now that you have your own warriors and ships, you might be able to raid alone, without Ivar, Ubbe, Bjorn or Hvitserk. You are your own man now."

"I still pledged alliegeance to my king." Sigurd said. "I have to obey him."

"Don't you mean, queen?" Siggy snarked. "You know he is not ruling, right? Surely you must know that it is the woman who killed your mother in the back who is sitting on the cursed throne of Kattegat. And you still wish to obey her?"

Sigurd sighed again, his face darkening. "Are you telling me I betrayed my own kin, Siggy? Are you telling me that I am as despicable as my uncle Rollo for not wanting to avenge a woman who never loved me?!"

"I am just saying that you should be your own man, that is all." Siggy said with a shrug. "I know I want to be my own woman and build something for me. I know I do not want to obey any king or queen. And if you are like me, you know I am right. If you are like me, then, I know you are blinded by your own resentment. After all, she took care about you more than she cared about me." Siggy growled.

"I was her son. That is perfectly normal!" Sigurd bitterly said. "I was her son and yet, she never truly cared about me. Not like Ivar! I was her son!"

"So why are you not avenging her then?!" Siggy yelled. "Why don't you burn everything to the ground until vengeance is fulfilled?"

"Siggy..." Sigurd began.

"Why don't you want, like me, to watch them all know sorrow and terror?! Why can't we make them pay for what they did to us?!" she kept yelling.

"Siggy... I know how angry you are, but now is not the time, nor the place for you to unleash your fury." Sigurd said, calmer.

"Ha! You're afraid to get punched!" Siggy exclaimed with a grin.

"You know I am." Sigurd replied with the same mischief.

"So," she changed subject. "When are we sailing? When will we raid again? And if you say that I am too young yet, I swear by the gods I will fucking breath fire!"

"My name is Sigurd, after Sigurd Fafnirsbana. If you decides to become a dragon, I will have no choice but to slay you." Sigurd joked.

Siggy gently punched his arm and laughed at the joke. Sigurd ruffled her hair, happily laughing, as if they were a brother and a sister, bonding.

"So when are we raiding and where?" Siggy asked.

"I have planned a raid on my own in Northern Northumbria." Sigurd said. "We will leave tomorrow morning."

"Is Ivar coming with you?"

Sigurd sighed. "I'd rather not. The last time we went raiding together... things did not end up that great. Besides, I wish to know if I can be a warlord on my own. Ubbe and Hvitserk already are, and Bjorn is a king who inherited of all of our father's empire."

"Are you jealous of him?" Siggy brutally asked.

"Of course I am!" Sigurd exclaimed. "Why should he have everything and us nothing?! True, we should consider ourselves lucky not to have been killed by Lagertha as well as our mother, but still, it is unfair. I was born a prince of the blood and now look at me! What am I?!"

"A future warlord and conqueror. Perhaps a king, even! Who knows?" Siggy said with a smile. "And I will join you tomorrow to help you achieve that. I want to fight."

"I know you do. Just, please, try not to kill my warriors on our journey to England. That would be terrible for our endeavour and I tried hard enough to get an army on my own." Sigurd joked once again.

"If they piss me off, do not expect me to let them live."

"Siggy!" Sigurd protested.

"Alright, alright, I won't." She said, hands in the air to capitulate. "Will this raid contribute to avenge your father?"

"You know very well that it will." Sigurd said. "Hvitserk is already in Wessex as well as Ubbe and a few other petty kings from Norway. They are fighting Ecbert's son, king Aethelwulf. Ivar is talking about raiding too. He wants to prove himself and he wants to kill christians. He will have no rest until Aelle is dead. Then, he said he would raid other kingdoms. He heard about a land next to England; I suppose that this is his next target."

"Has Guthrum talked about this raid? Will he come?" Siggy asked.

Sigurd sighed and stayed silent for a moment, thinking. "He did not say. Perhaps he will when you'll see him. Also, regarding your relationship, Torvi saw you yesterday by the lake. You should be more careful. And do not give away your virginity so easily. You will not be able to marry afterwards. Do not cover yourself with shame." he advized. "Like my mother did." he added on a bitter note.

"I will not marry. Ever! I belong to no man!" Siggy fiercely seethed. "And if a man DARES pretend I belong to him, I will kill him and chop his head off."

Sigurd gave a gentle and low chuckle which turned into a delirious laughter.

"What? Do I amuse you?" Siggy asked harshly.

Sigurd wiped off a tear from his face, still grinning, struggling to regain his calm. "You are so quick to anger Sig! This is so damn funny!"

Siggy gave a small smile. She was always happy of Sigurd's laughs; they were so rare. She was happy to talk to him like a brother. Sigurd was her uncle and yet, it was him, among her family she was the closest too. The one who shared the same dreams and regrets as her.

"I am being summonned by Bjorn." Siggy said. "Mind going to the great hall with me?"

"Not at all." Sigurd said. "After you are done with that, maybe you and I can train, what do you say?"

"I will always jump on any occasion to kick your ass, uncle Sigurd." Siggy joked.

"I really hate it when you call me like this." Sigurd flinched, frowning.

"I know. That is why I do it." Siggy said. "But you are my favorite uncle. You are the only one who truly cared about me. You are my family."

"I am happy you are mine too. So, how is Boda?" Sigurd asked, slightly blushing and nervous, as they were walking.

"She is well."

"Still angry about you being injured everyday?"

"She is." Siggy laughed. "I am sorry about this but I really cannot help it."

"Liar." Sigurd said. "I know very well that you have no impulse control, but you should try and make some efforts about this."

Siggy brushed away his words with her hand. "I will make efforts the day people will make some! Not the other way around!"

"Then the circle will never end." Sigurd said with wisdom. "I am angry too you know. But unlike you, I learned, long ago, to channel it."

"Right!" Siggy snarled. "Channel it! Like you do with Ivar?"

"This is different!" Sigurd harshly said. "We are brothers! It is natural to fight! Look at Ragnar and Rollo! They fought too!"

"Normal?" Siggy hissed. "What is normal in your family?! Your mother was a sorceress and a seeress and your little brother is a cripple! Your father abandonned you and yet you are willing to avenge him in spite of everything he has done! Not to mention you don't even seek to avenge your mother! That is not normal Sig!"

"That is also your family you are talking about." Sigurd added.

"I do not have a family. I am an orphan! I do not have a mother or a father! They abandonned me! They will never be, to me, anything else than traitors!" Siggy seethed with all the hatred she could. "Do not forget how I spend my childhood! Do not forget that they all forgot about me!"

"How could I?" Sigurd said, his face darkening with grief. "It had been so painful. All those years you disappeared... it was dreadful. Worst years of my life."

"Sorry..." Siggy said. "I never truly apologized for it, didn't I?"

"No. But I do not blame you." Sigurd said, smiling to his niece.

Siggy smiled. They kept walking for a while towards the great hall where Bjorn was awaiting Siggy, sitting on a throne usurped many times, rotten and cursed; taken by treacherous thieves who sought power to fill their empty hearts.

Through the years, Siggy slowly became indifferent to the sounds of Kattegat. It was all for her but sounds destined to remind her that she did not belong there. She was an outcast, a forgotten daughter; and although she was Lagertha's grand-daughter, she wasn't loved or respected, even less admired for all that. She was the reminder of a time many wished to forget; of a time so bright and so happy people wished to forget it even happened not to sink into regrets. Siggy was regrets; regrets for a father and for a mother and soon enough, she became Kattegat's regrets. The reminder of a golden age lost long ago.

She looked at Sigurd and saw his melancholy, carved on his face. She knew she wasn't the only one not to feel at home here. Kattegat was not their home; they did not feel they belonged there. They were orphans seeking for a place to call home.

Although they remained silent while they walked, time flew by while they were heading to the great hall. Soon enough, Siggy stood at the door, breathing heavily to calm her growing ire. She was about to talk to the man she could have called father and who was now a king she owed her alliegeance, now was not the time for murder wishes.

"Well Siggy," Sigurd said. "I'll leave you there. Do not kill anyone."

"You wish!"

"Damn right I wish! I do not want you to be banished!" Sigurd hissed.

"I won't be banished. And if I ever was, I'll follow you. I owe you my loyalty." Siggy said, giving a small, yet, warm smile.

Sigurd returned the smile. "I have some things to finish at the forge; my sword. I hope I can finish it before sunrise tomorrow. I will see you later, perhaps."

"See you, uncle Sigurd." Siggy said, teasing.

Sigurd flinched but smiled. Then, after he pressed Siggy's shoulder in an affectionnate way, he walked back to where they came from, humming a song, a poem, he learned from a foreign scald.

Siggy looked at him disappear between the houses of Kattegat, then, she turned back to the door, carved with battle and glory, and took a deep breath. Her face darkened and she clenched her teeth, like a wolf, ready to bite. She was ready.

She opened the door brutally and slammed it behind her. She walked angrily in front of Bjorn, who was sitting on a throne covered with fur, Torvi by his side, holding her sons' hands, her daughters weaving nearby. Guthrum was also there, standing by the hearth, leaning against a pillar, so tall and handsome, his face twisted into a scowl full of hatred. He shot Bjorn dark looks from time to time and his face showed nothing but disgust when he looked at his mother.

Siggy loved his disdain towards them. She loved that common ground they had. Guthrum had very little of his mother in him; his hair was golden, his beard ginger and his face was long and finely shaped. Siggy deduced long ago that he looked like his father, Jarl Borg, the traitor. Guthrum was handsome and Siggy loved that. It only gave them one more common trait.

She gave him a quick knowing glance and smiled, her smile so discrete it was a shadow on her face. Guthrum returned it, smiling more widely than her; more explicit in his infatuation.

Siggy turned away to look at her father and his second wife; the woman who was forced to marry him in order for their children to be his legitimate heirs. The woman who never asked about her and who had for her only disdain and jealousy. Siggy suspected she was jealous of her natural beauty; a gift from her mother and her grand-mother. Torvi was not as beautiful as Siggy was and she was not aging well, not to mention the heavy lines of black khol hiding the color of her eyes. Siggy knew she wanted to imitate Lagertha; she knew she wanted to be like her. Everyone wanted to be like Lagertha and if you didn't, something was wrong with you. Torvi was a shieldmaiden, but Siggy considered her as a failed one for she cowered behind a crossbow and had never stained her delicate hands with blood.

And then, there was Bjorn; _king_ Bjorn. Ragnar's favorite son. The one who abandonned her and who failed to keep her mother by his side. The selfish one who always favored his own fame and exploits over others. The one who could have been her father.

Siggy hated him. She hated the fact that he was her father. She hated his mere sight. She hated his eyes she inherited – Lagertha's eyes – she hated his face. She hated his hair. She hated his hands. She hated his voice. She hated everything that reminded her he was her father.

"Siggy..." Bjorn began.

"So, where is the queen?" Siggy cut him, which drew some laughter from Guthrum's mouth. "Where is your momma?" she mocked him with all her hatred.

"Lagertha is taking care of some business in Hedeby. She is still a Jarl. Now shut up when you talk to your king!" Torvi said.

"How far up his ass must you be to defend him when you are only his wife?! Let him speak! After all, he is a grown man, right? That is why he lets his momma rule for him and not you!" Siggy spat with all the hatred and anger she could, savoring with delight the shocked and angry look Torvi was giving her.

"That is enough, Siggy!" Bjorn loudly said. "You are in my hall. So you ought to listen and shut your mouth!"

"Your hall?" Siggy snarked. "I thought it was Lagertha's."

"This hall was my father's and now it is mine! Mine! Now, shut it or I'll have you shut up!" Bjorn yelled, making his sons and daughters cry.

Torvi cradled the boys and hugged her daughters. Guthrum held a laughter and Siggy gave him a small smile. She loved the chaos she brought. Her rage was a poison she wished to spill everywhere she went, like the most violent of storms.

"I summoned you," said Bjorn. "to make an announcement of great importance. I summoned you to announce to you, your wedding with a prince from Norway. His father is a very important king, wealthy and famous. This alliance will grant us money and men. It is crucial if we want to raid in Wessex and win against king Aelle and king Aethelwulf; to conquer lands and fulfill my father's dearest wish. The Norse king agreed. The bride-price has been paid. You will marry Rognvald this Summer and you will be his third wife."

Guthrum scowled and spat with anger. Siggy gave him a look full of worry and sorrow. She did not wish to be parted from him. In spite of all his flaws, she wanted to stay with him. In spite of his obsession with vengeance and his hatred towards everything Ragnar touched or made, Siggy was convinced that he loved her. She did not want to be parted from him. Not yet.

She turned back to her father, her eyes burning with ire. "Why would you want me to marry?"

"You are a princess; my daughter. You are from the blood of the great Ragnar Lothbrok, descended from the gods. It will be a noble alliance." Bjorn explained under Torvi's look, full of distrust.

"So now I am your daughter?" Siggy seethed, almost laughing at his words.

"You are." Torvi coldly said. "Look at yourself in a mirror and you'll see."

"I do not own a mirror! And even if I did, why would I look at my reflection? I do not want to be remembered of my parents! Not in any ways!" Siggy yelled.

"Enough!" Bjorn yelled. "You will marry, no matter what you say! You will marry even if I have to chain you to your chair! As a princess of Kattegat; as the grand-daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, it is your duty! You will obey me!"

"I am not a princess. I am a bastard; a woman without a father and without a mother. Remember? I am not your daughter and I am not a princess. I am a warrior whose hands are filthy with the blood of my enemies. Why do you want me to marry? Me, of all women! Why not your other daughters? Am I that expendable to you? Am I nothing but a mere pawn on a Hnefatafl board you have no control over? Am I that meaningless that you can afford to throw me to men you consider more as enemies than friends? Am I?" Siggy yelled with anger.

"Siggy..." Bjorn warned, his anger rising as well as his daughter's.

But Siggy did not stop. She was raging, her ire unquenchable, and she wanted to unleash the fury she usually concealed. "I must congratulate you, Bjorn Ironsides, now you fully are like your father. You act like him in every ways! Even your first wife left you! Oh you must be proud! But be careful, you might end up dying in a pit snake the most dishonorable of ways. If you so desires to be your father, then I can bet your death will be pathetic." she finished with a mocking grin.

"That is enough!" Bjorn shouted, once again, making his children cry. "You will respect me! If you decides to be so stubborn, I'll have you followed by my men and by Frigg, you will marry! I will keep you in Kattegat until you are given to Rognvald!"

"I'LL KILL THEM!" Siggy yelled, louder. "I WILL KILL EVERY MAN YOU HAVE AND I WILL BURN YOUR SHIPS! BY ODIN I WILL BURN KATTEGAT TO THE GROUND IF IT PLEASES ME!"

"I AM YOUR FATHER!" Bjorn yelled.

"You are not!" Siggy spat, walking to the door. "I have no father, or mother! I will forever be orphaned! You cannot marry a daughter you do not have to anyone!" she shouted before she slammed the door behind her.

Behind the door, she heard Bjorn yelling orders for her to be followed and then imprisonned. She heard him curse her name and her existence. She heard him deciding of her fate.

But Siggy had decided long ago, that only her would choose her fate; not even the Norns could weave her thread. She decided long ago that she was her own person and that as such, she took her decisions for herself. She will not please Bjorn. She will not please Rognvald. She will not be sold and be a pawn. She will not be a wife. She will not be a truce or a tool for bargain. She will not be an hostage. Siggy was a shieldmaiden. Siggy did not belong to anyone, even Guthrum. She will follow her own path. And she decided to live without regrets.

Siggy thought for a long time, walking towards Helga's house. She had to take a decision. Quickly. Suddenly it appeared to her. Her solution! She grinned and changed path. She walked towards the end of Kattegat. The size of it tripled with time; a consequence for Aslaug's ruling over the kingdom for years. The once small town became a majot trading center, protected with a wooden wall Lagertha had had built right after she killed the former queen. A way, perhaps, to make amends for her actions.

She finally arrived to the house she was looking for. She took a deep breath and knocked to the door. She hoped he was there. She hoped he came back to his house.

Relief filled her when he opened the door, his face puzzled and blonde brows furrowed.

"Siggy," Sigurd said. "Already? I just came back from the forge. My sword will be read..."

"Sigurd," Siggy fiercely said, determined. "I need your help."

* * *

 **So this was the first chapter of that Sig and Boda fanfic I longed to write for so long. It is longer than I expected and I hope I can keep up with the length. It would be nice if all the chapters did not exceed 5,000 words; it would be easier for me to write them. I hope you liked this beginning. Be warned tho; I only wrote one chapter so far and the whole fanfic is not fully planned yet. I have yet so many things I need to write down and a timeline to set up, a tone to find, a structure to establish (and I have yet to finish Crashing Waves). Many things will happen (SO many!) and I can only hope this will be as exciting to read as a saga.**  
 **I really hope you will like it. I wanted to give Sig and Boda the story they deserved because I was bitter about the way they had been handled in the show. Also, if you ever see similarities with the story of Alfhildr, it is normal. It is a great inspiration of mine. Also, this story is linked with Children of the Wolf.**  
 **I really hope you will like this fanfic.**


	2. 1-02: Departure and quest

"Sigurd." Siggy said, her voice determined. "I need your help."

Sigurd froze for a moment at the door, lost, not knowing what to say or do. He looked at her beautiful and filthy niece. Her eyes were red. She had been crying. And he could still smell anger and resentment around her. Her appointment with Bjorn did not end well as he could see. Sigurd sighed.

"Come in." he said as he opened the door wide to let her enter.

"Thank you." Siggy said, entering the longhouse Bjorn so gracefully gave his brothers after his mother took Kattegat back for him - as well as all the territories Ragnar inherited, not to mention Aslaug's.

She sat on a chair near the hearth and looked around, her eyes lingering on the many weapons in the great room. Axes, mostly; Ivar's. Siggy gave a mocking laugh. He was always wanting to be crueler to compensate for the cruel fate of being a cripple.

"Is Ivar here?" she aked.

"Not yet." Sigurd answered. "He had some things to do downtown."

"Preparing another army to avenge your father in Wessex?"

"I suppose..." Sigurd said. "But I believe it is because he wants to conquer like our father did. He always talks about war and glory. You know Ivar; he is not keen on revealing his plans. Even to his brothers. Ubbe is the only one he trusts. And even to him, he tells little."

"Is he still planning on avenging Aslaug?" Siggy asked.

"He is."

"If he wants someone to help him, tell him I'm in." Siggy said.

Sigurd sighed and went to fetch some ale. He drank and sighed again. He wondered why they all talked of war when peace was possible. He wondered what drove the world to be so cruel, merciless and violent. He wondered why he was the only one to seek after a brighter future, free from chaos and death. Why, among his family, was he the only one to seek justice and not chaos? Why did the gods fill his niece and brother with such hatred?

Perhaps he was not a true son of Ragnar; too calm. Too _soft_ , like Ivar loved to repeat.

"Why would you want to help him?" Sigurd asked, pouring some ale in a cup Siggy took from the table. "This does not concerns you."

"Her blood runs through my veins. Of course it concerns me." Siggy said.

"The world changes, Sig. Every day kings fall. It is fate and we cannot change it." Sigurd said. "I chose not to avenge my mother because I deem that blood had been shed enough. Now, I want peace."

Siggy stopped drinking and stared at him for a long moment of silence broken by the crackling sounds of the fire.

"What?" Sigurd asked.

"You almost sounds like your mother." Siggy noted. "So confident about fate and what the Norns have woven. So compassionate and forgiving. _Soft_."

"Shut up!" Sigurd said, half amused, half angered. "I am not my mother. I am not my father. They abandonned me! Both of them! Why would I even be like them?! I want to be myself!"

Siggy grinned and drank. "I know. I understand."

Sigurd closed his eyes for a moment. "Why do you despise Lagertha so much? When every woman admire her. And every man, bed her."

"Cunts!" Siggy spat with hatred. "Blind stupid girls barely grown! The great Lagertha! The great shieldmaiden! Mother, Earl, Queen! They give her all qualities and virtues when she is nothing but hatred and cowardice! They consider her as a goddess! A goddess who seized something that wasn't her under false reasons! A woman who fell into madness! A woman who abandonned me! A woman so stupid she was usurped! Blind cunts who does not see her true nature. She abandonned me! Never cared for me! Forgot me because I was not good enough! Because I was just a poor little girl; a child her son did not care for. She worships her son, he cannot do any wrong. So it is I who must be bad."

Siggy drank the rest of her ale, seething with anger.

"She abandonned me. I have no family. She is nothing to me but a usurper."

Sigurd looked at her for a moment. Sometimes he wondered if she wasn't a Valkyrie; sometimes, he wondered if she wasn't a wolf. She was so fierce and longing for recognition. Siggy who lived among the wolves and was taken back by another brave little girl, then, fought for her honor and for herself. Would it had changed anything if Aslaug raised her? Would she be a spoiled princess? Would she still be fierce and learned how to wield a sword? Questions the Norns chose to elude.

"So what did Bjorn wanted with you?" he asked.

Siggy gave a laugh. "That's the reason why I came actually."

"Will you tell me or should I practice the Seidr to know?" Sigurd joked.

Siggy laughed again. "He wanted to announce my marriage with a prince... Rognvald? Yes. Rognvald."

Sigurd spat his ale which produced a high flame in the hearth. "What?" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth.

"He said I was to be married by force if he desired so. But I won't have it. I cannot be a pawn he uses however he pleases. That is why I came." Siggy confessed. "You talked about a journey to Wessex. I want to go with you."

"How?" Sigurd exclaimed. "Bjorn has spies everywhere! He'll have you followed! How can I take you with me?"

"Hide me." Siggy said.

"Bjorn will know it it you." Sigurd replied

"No. I'll just have to cover my face with mud. Bjorn won't tell the difference. He never paid attention to my face. He doesn't know what I truly look like." Siggy bitterly said. "Sigurd, please. I want to fight."

Sigurd stroked his growing beard, thinking. "Hm..." he said. "Between your anger and Bjorn's, I think I'll go with the latter. You are way too terrifying when you are angry. I do not want to die yet... I'll take you with me."

Siggy's face suddenly lit with a wide smile; a beautiful smile. It was when she smiled that Sigurd realized she was a beautiful woman. Her eyes were soft as the sky in summer and her smile was Baldr's warmth. Anger leaving, her natural beauty glowed like the midnight sun.

"Thank you Sig!" she yelled.

Suddenly, the door opened. Siggy started and looked around; and saw no one. Then, as a reflex, she looked down and saw Ivar crawling to the table. Sigurd steered and defiantly looked at his brother, sitting on the chair next to him, his powerful muscles hoisting him on it. Siggy often marveled at the strength in his arms. If there was something she respected, it was strength. In spite of his legs, Ivar was a handsome man. But his beauty was cruel and cold; his eyes were of the color of ice, his jaw was sharp and stern and the way he crawled reminded of of a serpent. Ivar's beauty was cruel and it drove all women to him, entranced and mesmerized, and his axe, his thirst for blood and violence, infinite.

Siggy was wary of him and learned long ago not to underestimate him. But in spite of the anger consuming Ivar, she was angrier and took an intense pleasure reminding him of it. He was fire and ice; she was chaos.

Ivar looked at Sigurd, his hand on his axe and gave a cruel grin. Siggy gave him a glare he noticed. He tilted his head and looked at her intensely. Siggy borne his eyes with the same menace he showed. He was a serpent, she was a wolf. Her fangs were strong and sharp; she would eat him.

"Siggy." Ivar seethed. "To what do we owe the displeasure of your visit, in our modest cabin? _Princess_."

"Call me princess one more time, cripple, and I will drown you in the sea and offer your soul to Ran." Siggy replied.

Ivar chuckled, cold and cruel. When she saw her smile, Siggy understood why all women were attracted to him. It was true he was handsome. If he was more innocent, perhaps he would have been the most handsome man she had ever met. But innocence left him long ago.

"And what if I kill you with my axe, huh? Who would miss you?" Ivar seethed back, angrier and crueler.

"I would." Sigurd said.

"That is because you are _soft_. Like those _Christians_." he spat.

"Who said I am a Christian?" Sigurd replied, angered. "Odin visits my dreams every night! Sif even blessed my hair! It would be a dishonor to break my beliefs and reject the legacy mother gave me with my name! I must honor the gods; our ancestors."

"They would be ashamed of you!" Ivar yelled. "You do not honor them! You do not worship the true gods! Those made of blood and wrath! You betrayed yourself! You betrayed mother!"

"Misses the time she was breastfeeding you? How did it tasted like? Divinity? Tell me, did she have the tits of a god?" Sigurd yelled.

Ivar gave a long scream of rage and waved his axe towards Sigurd's head. But Siggy saw. And Siggy acted. With her own axe she stopped Ivar's, took it and threw it in a pillar nearby. Siggy growled; her inner beast awakened.

"Don't..." she seethed, mad with ire. "You.. ever dare... to attack him like that! Or I'll rip off your throat with my teeth and cover the whole world with your blood! Cripple!"

Ivar looked at her for a moment, breathing heavily out of anger and madness. His eyes became nothing but violence and chaos. For a brief moment, Siggy believed he would kill her.

Let him try, she told herself.

Then, he grinned; a grin without joy. "A Sig that isn't _soft_." he said.

Siggy frowned and growled. "It is long ago I lost innocence Ivar. It is long ago I am not soft anymore. I might have been soft if your mother cared for me like she promised. But she broke that promise. I am surprised all the years she cared for you did not turn you into a softer man, but perhaps it is just your eyes and smile that are soft."

"A compliment? Is it Ragnarok?" Ivar mocked.

"Your mother betrayed me." Siggy seethed. "You all betrayed me except Sigurd! I have no family but him! If you kill him, I will sow havoc upon you!"

"I can't wait!" Ivar replied.

"Good. Because I will feast on your blood and see if your mother's divine tits brought you any good!" Siggy snarled.

Ivar gave another laugh with no joy and drank some ale. "So why are you here?"

"To officialise with Sigurd my departure with him tomorrow." Siggy said. "Bjorn wants to offer my hand in marriage and wants to keep me here as a precious pawn in a game he is not even the master of. Screw him! I won't obey! Sigurd will go to raid in Northumbria. I want to join."

"So you are ready to anger Bjorn?" Ivar asked with disdain. "I like that plan. The thought of him losing is satisfying."

Siggy grinned. If there was something she liked in Ivar, it was his dsidain and dislike of his older brother. There had been a time, once when they were close, but Lagertha's invasion of Kattegat and murder of his mother killed that love as cruelly as one of his axes.

"What will you do in Northumbria?" Ivar asked Sigurd.

"Raid of course." Sigurd said. "I want to join Ubbe and Hvitserk in Wessex and lead a great army to kill Aelle. And when it is done, I intend on settling there. There is nothing in Kattegat and Gotaland for us anymore. Father's territories have been taken by Lagertha and Bjorn. I want my own land now."

"Will you kill Christians?" Ivar asked.

"Of course I will!" Sigurd replied.

"Then maybe I will join and help you." Ivar said. "I am tired of Kattegat and seeing Bjorn and his whore, Torvi, on mother's throne and sleeping in her bed when the usurper is not. I am tired of Lagertha's presence here when I cannot kill her yet. I will join you Sigurd; as well as the jarls and godis I met today. I need blood."

"You give up on vengeance then?" Siggy asked, shocked.

Ivar gave a laugh and threw his head back. "No. Of course not. Vengeance for a disonorable action shall be fulfilled. I do not seek for justice or compensation for none of those things will bring my mother back. No. I want revenge and I know how to fulfill it."

"Will she suffer?" Siggy asked with a cruel joy.

Ivar looked at her and for a brief moment, it was as if no hatred had ever existed between the two of them. "Of course she will."

Sigurd looked at his brother intensely for a few minutes in disbelief. Was it possible that Ivar might truly want to join him? Was it possible they came to a truce of some sort between them? Was it possible that Ivar might listen to reason? Was it possible he accepted without menacing him with his axe?

"So you'll come?" Sigurd asked.

"Are you deaf?" Ivar replied, angered. "I'll come!"

Sigurd smiled and so did Ivar. For a blessed moment, there was peace and agreement between them; and they looked like the close brothers they should have always been. Siggy enjoyed those moments; it reminded her that peace was possible. But it hollowed her heart knowing that there would never be such peace for her. She had no sister; no family. She was nameless. Alone.

"So if you come," Ivar began, suddenly softer. "Does this mean Boda comes too?"

"Shit!" Siggy suddenly exclaimed. "Boda! I forgot to tell her! I cannot go now that Bjorn is having me watched! Shit, shit, shit!"

"I'll go tell her." Ivar said.

Siggy's jaw dropped and she looked intensely at Ivar in front of her. Sigurd frowned and drank some ale. He was aware of Ivar's close relationship with Angrboda as her healer and he was jealous of it. Ever since they were children, him and Boda had been friend; best friends. And somehow, he had wished she became his wife one day. But Ivar had seen through it and as jealous and envious he had always been from Sigurd, he had wanted to steal that relationship. Sigurd felt stripped from everything he ever had by a man his mother considered like a god. Sigurd hated this. Mothers priviledging one of their children over another were not women he liked.

"What do you mean, you'll go tell her?" Siggy asked with disbelief. "What about Bjorn's spies? What makes you think he won't be wary of you?"

"I am a cripple, remember?" Ivar said, grinning cruelly. "And Bjorn does not know me enough to be wary of me. Besides, there is nothing wrong for a cripple to go see his personal healer and his master. No?"

"Sounds logical, indeed." Siggy whispered.

"But I would enjoy them to catch me." Ivar said. "It will give me the occasion to feed my axe with their blood."

"Departure is tomorrow at dawn." Sigurd said. "I'll hide Siggy in the boat with the help of a few of my men."

"And Gye Torsteinsdottir and Horsten Torsteinsson?" Siggy asked. "Will they be part of the raid?"

"They are old enough. But with them, I only fear that they might kill one another." Sigurd said. "Siblings wanting one another's death is dangerous for an endeavour such as ours." he finished looking straight to Ivar.

Ivar gave a cold laugh and then looked again at Sigurd, brows furrowed, with a displeased expression on his face.

"I'll try not to kill you on the battlefield." he snarled.

"Murder is dishonorable." Siggy harshly said. "But if you kill him, I won't hesitate to bring dishonor on me. Fuck justice and compensation!"

"You said that once. Will you truly kill me? Or is it just an act?" Ivar spat with disdain.

Siggy suddenly saw red. She stood up and jumped by Ivar's side of the table. Then, with all her strength, she punched him in the jaw. She struck so hard she heard his bones crack. But she wanted to do more. She wanted to rip off his throat with her teeth, to ravage his face with her nails. To destroy what made him so handsome and so dangerous; so alluring. She wanted wrath and destruction.

"And this was only me being nice." she seethed.

Ivar grinned, amused, and put his jaw back in place. "Impressive." he seethed back. "And now, you gave me a good reason to go see my favorite healer and woman. Thank you, _princess_."

"Tell Boda I am sorry." Siggy said.

"No." Ivar replied.

Then, he left the house, crawling like a snake; like one of those who ate and destroyed his father. And this snake, born to die and yet to strong and hungry for fame and blood, was one of the most dangerous for his father's name.

* * *

Angrboda was carefully choosing herbs and other plants, preparing ointments and medicine for her mother and father and as well for Ivar in the house of her parents. Siggy wasn't home yet. Angrboda wondered if she was alright and if her appointment with Bjorn had been good.

Her hands mechanically mixed the herbs in her bowl and removed the stems of the flowers she wanted to use. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sounds of her father working below and her mother singing, not far away, harvesting mushrooms for dinner. The forest was peace and quiet. And the calm breathing on the water in the fjord was only increasing that peace.

As she worked, she recalled how she worked with Aslaug; how she taught her in her great hall. How she often wept over Ivar's disability; how she wept with worries at the idea of Ubbe and Hvisterk so far away with their father, at war, in danger; and how she wept for Sigurd who would never love her although she had given him, through his name, all the love and expectations a mother could have towards one of her son. Angrboda recalled all those afternoon, weaving magic and learning how to master the sight although she had never been able to.

Angrboda recalled the time when she was alive and loved; the time her own mother visited Aslaug and how they joyfully chattered. She recalled how close they were. And how saddened Helga had been when Lagertha killed Aslaug in her madness. Seeing two women she deeply loved at war for nothing but a man had kept Helga forever away from Kattegat. This place was cursed and Helga wanted to avoid the memories. Helga was light and the town's darkness consumed her. Only her father could stand it.

Angrboda recalled light and joy. Her father was wrong; the gods were not all but darkness and violence. The gods were mischief and happiness too. Valhalla was golden and bright. The Bifröst was colorful, vibrant and beautiful. Her father was blind. And unlike Odin, he had both his eyes. Her father was blind but not her nor her mother.

Light and life filled Midgard.

All of a sudden the door moved with a squeal of protest. Angrboda started and looked at the door. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw a man crawling on the floor. She gave a smile and helped him onto a chair. Ivar replied to her smile with one of his; one of those who made women shiver with lust.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Angrboda asked as she went back to her work.

"Siggy broke my jaw." Ivar said.

"And yet, you can speak perfectly." Angrboda joked. "How is she? Was her appointment with Bjorn good?"

"I will only tell you if you give me a kiss." Ivar replied.

"If you won't answer, perhaps I shall ask Sigurd. At least he is polite enough not to ask for unrequired kisses." Angrboda said without looking at him.

Ivar growled and grabbed her wrist, anger slowly rising. Angrboda turned and considered his hand for a moment. Then, she rose her sight to his, locking her eyes on his. At this moment, she was in such anger it seemed like chaos and destruction was about to be brought upon men. Nothing was as terrifying than a storm striking in the middle of a peaceful day.

Ivar noticed the rage in her eyes and released her wrist, frightened by the woman in front of him, as powerful and mighty as a goddess. Not only did she frightened him, but she also aroused him and his interest.

"I am sorry." Ivar said.

"No, you are not." Angrboda said with a fierce voice. "If you care for your life, I strongly advise you not to do this again. I am not a weak woman. Always remember that your mother taught me all I know and more. Always remember that I can heal and kill."

Ivar nodded and his features softened. Every day, he was more convinced that Angrboda was a goddess and he wondered if one day, she will have outdone this stage in his eyes.

"Now tell me about Sig!" Angrboda asked.

"The unsoft Sig." Ivar said, smiling. "Her appointment with Bjorn did not go that well."

"Tell me."

"Bjorn wanted to give her hand in marriage to a prince from Norway, Rognvald or something like that. And you know Siggy..." Ivar said.

"Oh I do!" Angrboda agreed with affection and amusement. "Is he still alive?" she joked.

"As far as I know, yes. Which is a shame." Ivar grinned. "So she refused and since Sigurd and I will go raiding tomorrow in Northumbria she decided to come with us. It will be the end of Summer soon. We have to depart before the ice covers the fjord and the great tides."

"She will fight? Again?" Angrboda exclaimed. "Oh no! No! This little wilding will come back covered with scars again! I know her, she will try to get wounded as much as possible, this reckless shieldmaiden! She will mess my work!"

"What about me?" Ivar asked harshly. "You are my healer! Not hers!"

"Are you jealous?" Angrboda laughed.

"I am not!" Ivar yelled, flustered. "You are mine! That is all!"

"I am not yours." Angrboda said. "I am mine and mine only. I make my choices and now I must choose again. An easy choice." she smiled.

"Which is?" Ivar asked, out of patience.

"Siggy is my friend; my best friend. And I am your healer. So I will follow you both on this raid." Angrboda announced.

"Are you coming for her or for me?" Ivar asked.

"Does it matter?"

"It does!" Ivar said.

"Then I am coming for her." Angrboda replied, smiling.

Ivar gave a growl of displeasure which made Angrboda laugh.

"We'll wait for you in Kattegat." he said, annoyed as he left the table and crawled to the exit.

"Not in Kattegat." Angrboda said. "Kattegat is dangerous. It is cursed. And Bjorn might have me watched too. He might want to keep me here to tend his children and Lagertha. No. I must avoid Kattegat."

"So how will you join us?" Ivar asked, genuinely curious.

"Tell Sig that I'll wait for Sigurd's ship at our special place." Angrboda replied. "She'll understand."

"What special place?" Ivar asked.

"You'll see if you transmit the message." Angrboda replied.

"I will." Ivar answered.

"If you ever betray Siggy, I'll come for you and you'll regret it." she warned.

Ivar gave her a look and grinned. "No. Not yet. She is far too important for my plans to allow that."

Angrboda gave him a look filled with curiosity, her hands still working the herbs.

"I cannot wait to go in battle." Ivar said, raising his eyes to Boda, entrancing and mesmerizing snake; handsome man. "That way, I'll have you all for myself. And you'll heal me, and only me! You'll share my bed and I'll show you how I can love you."

"You are so confident, Ivar." Angrboda teased. "But I am afraid you are not the only one I have to heal. You are not the only one I love. I will heal Siggy and Sigurd and all the men who will fight. And I will share my bed with whoever I want. Perhaps I'll sleep with Sigurd, since he often gets cold at night."

Ivar growled once again, on the verge of screaming his anger and Angrboda wondered what drove him to want everything and everyone all for himself. He was a possessive man and Angrboda suspected it was to have been given all his mother's attention when he was a child which produced that. As much as she loved and respected Aslaug, the mistakes she had made regarding the education of her sons were many.

She could not help comparing his constant anger and the behavior born from it to Siggy's. Siggy was never given attention. She had always been lonely in spite of all the time she spent with Sigurd and Angrboda. While Ivar wanted what was not his and what was around him, Siggy wanted nothing but herself. Siggy was almost self-sufficient.

Almost. For Angrboda knew how dependant Siggy had became of her with years; her only friend. Her only link with the world of women.

"Tell her, Ivar." Angrboda said. "For me."

Ivar nodded and left the house, crawling away. And once again, Angrboda wondered about his arms and back. What a shame he was born a cripple. He would have been a hansome man. Perhaps more handsome than Baldr. But a man could not have everything and the gods had decided to be fair. So Ivar was a cripple. And fate could not be unwoven.

* * *

Against all odds, sacrificing his selfishness and jealousy, Ivar complied to Angrboda's request. But before that, he went to see Floki, his old master. They talked for about an hour of gods and magic; of war and hatred towards the Christians they deemed weak and stupid. Ivar loved Floki; his own peculiar way. But Helga, although she was a fine woman and worshipped the gods, was too soft. And Ivar wasn't keen on softness. Softness was weakness and others' weaknesses reminded him of his own.

He gave Siggy Angrboda's message and had to conceal his rage and jealousy when he saw her knowing eyes and the glowing happiness on her face. Angrboda and her shared a secret he was not the owner of. He hated it. He hated not to be the center of their worlds. And in the meantime, Sigurd gathered his men, prepared the ships and the weapons for the raid he was planning for about a year to Northumbria. Ivar's men and warriors had been warned too and they prepared another ship for them and their weapons, food, ale and mead. But they did not take horses; to complicated to move and load, and too large for the boats. They will steal some in Northumbria. The kingdom did not lack of those.

They woke up at dawn and helped with Gye and Haken, one of Sigurd's warriors, they hid Siggy on the boat, right before the departure. But one of Bjorn's spies noticed the strange commotion in the ship and looked inside it once Sigurd's men gone. Carefully, he approached and removed the thick fur on Siggy and grinned cruelly. She gasped when she realized she had been caught. The man considered her for a moment, his prey, and was about to give the alert when he fell on the pontoon, struck by an axe. Ivar's.

Siggy looked at him, all covered with blood and smiling, so cruel and bloodthirsty. It was almost as if he was going to drink the man's blood. He struck the man once more for the pleasure of it, and with a last cold look to Siggy, he crawled away. Siggy quickly removed the man's body from the pontoon and placed it beside her, not without washing the wood covered with blood.

She laid back on the deck of the ship, and hid her body under some thick and heavy furs. Her heart raced in her chest and she wondered if it would ever beat normally again. She had almost lost the freedom she longed for.

It was only when men started to hop on the ship she calmed down. Departure was soon; so was her release. Soon, she will be free. Soon, Kattegat will be behind her and she will fight like a true shieldmaiden. Soon, she will prove to the whole world they were wrong to underestimate her. The dead man beside her stank but the smell of freedom and glory highly covered it.

She heard Sigurd on the ship and felt Ivar crawling not far away. She was afraid they might kill one another on that ship and hoped they would not. She hoped Angrboda would calm them and sow peace among the men. If there was a woman capable of this, it was her.

A horn blew and a brutal jolt told Siggy that the boat started moving. They were gone. Finally. Finally she was free. At last her chains had been broken. Siggy almost sobbed with happiness. For the first time in her life she was at peace. Away from Kattegat, all was brighter, newer. Away from Kattegat, she could be anything she wanted.

She almost felt like she could fly. The speed of the ship and the wind blowing, invigorating, produced in her heart such a feeling of freedom she wanted nothing but to remove the thick fur covering her and let the wind tangle her hair.

But they were still in sight of Kattegat. And Siggy knew Bjorn was looking at the ships sailing away from the shore for she heard his voice before the ship sailed away. She heard him talking to Sigurd and biding him a safe journey. Siggy wondered why Torvi did not come. She was a shieldmaiden after all. But perhaps her loyalty to Lagertha prevented her from obeying to one of Aslaug's sons; even Sigurd. Siggy was glad. She did not think she could have borne to live with Torvi on board and on the battlefield. That woman was disdainful and hated to stain her hands; hence why she only killed with the strange bow she brought back from Frankia long ago.

"Sig." Sigurd said, next to her. "You can come out."

Siggy removed the fur with a long groan of relief and content. "At last!" she grunted as she stood up and threw the dead man beside her in the fjord.

"Where are we supposed to head to?" Sigurd asked.

"To that special spot." Ivar mocked with bitterness. "Hers and Boda!"

"Go left." Siggy said, ignoring Ivar. "We'll arrive in an hour or so. We have to bypass the mountain."

"What's the special spot anyway?" Ivar scoffed.

"Shut up!" Siggy spat. "If you don't you'll throw up sea-sick as you are!"

Ivar gave her a dark look and Siggy simply smiled. There was nothing funnier than shutting Ivar's mouth with words. Strangely, it was more satisfying beating him with words and wits than axe and violence.

After a short hour, Siggy saw the place Angrboda and her often went when they needed to be alone and see the stars reflecting on the sea; her happy place in spite of what it was: an old farm, burnt to the ground on a beach, surrounded by a forest. The farm might have been good-looking and prosperous once, but the fire told a story of death and tragedy; a story lost and untold. The black wood, consumed by the flames spoke of violence and perhaps vengeance. Often, Siggy had wondered who lived there. Often, with Angrboda they had created stories about this place. If the trees could speak, what stories would they tell?

Angrboda was on the shore, looking at the boat, her hair flowing with the wind; beautiful and peaceful. At her feet was a large bag and Siggy laughed when she realized it must not have any clothes in it. Angrboda wasn't keen of clothes or jewelry. She was far more interested in herbs and medicine. But it never stopped her from being beautiful her own unique way and to apply a heavy line of khol on her eyelids every morning. Angrboda was beautiful and Siggy could never get enough of her face.

The ship stopped not far from the shore. Angrboda, not caring for her dress walked in the water and was helped – as well as her bag – on the deck of the ship. Siggy immediately jumped to her neck and both women laughed; just like when they were little girls. Ivar growled but neither paid attention to his behavior.

"You are being a rebel again." Angrboda said with tenderness, gently stroking Siggy's hair.

"You are being a great friend again." Siggy replied. "I cannot believe you decided to come with us. I almost exploded with happiness when Ivar told us. I am so happy you cannot imagine! I am so happy you are coming with us."

"With you, Sig." Angrboda said, smiling knowingly to Ivar.

"You could have stayed." Siggy said, suddenly grim. "Why did you choose to come?"

"Because someone has to heal your irresponsible arse!" Angrboda said, harsher. "If you mess my work, I swear I will kill you."

Siggy laughed. "You are a healer Boda!"

"And you are a pain in my arse." Angrboda replied with affection.

"I am happy you decided to come. I would have missed you." Siggy said.

"I would have missed you too."

Siggy gave a gentle smile and both women embraced one another, happy to be together again. At this moment, Siggy's heart was at peace. She was where she wanted with the people she loved the most in the whole world. If she wasn't certain to be on Midgard, she would have believed to be in Valhalla.

Another horn blew and the five ships Sigurd and Ivar led left the beach and the burnt farm, remain of a time long lost. Another day awaited; another land, with many battles to fight and many deaths to avenge. Another land awaited; a land where Siggy would be free. The sun shone behind the clouds and the horizon had never seemed brighter. The future was open. Now, more than ever.

* * *

The strong winds of the morning were tangling her red hair and messing her dress she took days to choose. After several days on Einar's ship, Solveig hardly recognized herself when she looked at her reflection on the water. She was covered with filth and she stank. She needed a bath and she desperately wanted one. She wanted hot water and a comb to brush her hair. And alas, she had not seen any since they left the settlement of the Rus.

The ship stopped at the pontoon and Solveig gave a groan of joy and content when her feet touched the floor. At long last she was on land! At long last she was back on the land she was born in! But although Kattegat was in Gotaland, it wasn't her home for all that. Her home was far away, North of Kattegat, so far North, where the gods often visits and the weather is wilder as well as the men. Her home was home for berserkers and other beasts. And she had been gone from it far too long.

"Stay here, I'll go with Siegfried to pay my respect to the king, Bjorn. With any luck, we can stay here for at least a month with all we brought back from the Rus' lands." Einar said.

Solveig nodded and punched Siegfried in the shoulder as he walked past her. A way for her to remind him that he was still her little brother in spite of his impressive height. She laughed when he gave her an outraged look. He wanted to impress and he had always been quick to anger. A perfect target.

With Einar and Siegfried gone, she finally could fulfill the task Thorunn had given her when she left a year ago. But Solveig was afraid it might be doomed to failure. And if she came back to Thorunn with bad news, Solveig was afraid the shieldmaiden might want revenge, her eyes turning red and her face painted with her wrath. Thorunn was terrifying when she was angered and confident; perhaps more than Hel or Chaos itself. No wonder so many men came to join her in the woods.

Solveig wanted to succeed. Not only out of fear, but also out of love for a woman she admired and respected; a woman who saved her life as a child. She wanted her happy. She deserved to be happy.

She gave a sigh and smiled. She must show a pleasant face if she wanted to succeed.

"Excuse me," she said to an old woman repairing nets nearby. "Can you tell me anything about a girl named Siggy?"

* * *

 ** _Heyyyyyyyyyy! Long time no updated right? Yeah that's normal! Because Crashing Waves took like the major part of my time and I am dying to finish it. But it is finishing calmly and slowly so I am happy. I hope you liked this chapter and if you wanna know how Thorunn saved Solveig, you can read my fic, Thorunn alone._**

 ** _I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Have a nice day!_**


	3. 1-03: Fates

Siggy listened, eyes closed, to the sea beneath the ship, as it ploughed the water forward. Siggy savored the harsh wind, so cold and sharp on her skin like a slap; at last, she was free, and that feeling outdid every slaps from the wind. At last, Kattegat was only a blurry memory; that town which saw her grow, which closed its eyes and pretended she never existed; that cursed town and all its miseries, betrayals and tragedies; that town she should have died in but was brought back through wolves and forest and a gentle girl's kindness; that town she despised and yet called home; the only place she ever knew.

Now it seemed her field of vision widened and now it seemed endless paths opened to her feet and when she looked at the horizon, the sun never shone brighter. She was Siggy the shieldmaiden and she was going to fight in England like brave warriors she had heard tales about. And perhaps – and as much as she tried she couldn't oversee it – walk where her mother had walked. At the thought, she sighed and shed a tear. Even away from her chains, she still felt them dragging her back.

Angrboda frowned as she saw a tear rolling down Siggy's cheek and came to sit beside her with one of those warm smile she inherited from her mother, concerned nonetheless.

"Is everything well?" she asked.

"Yes. Joy, that is all." Siggy said.

"Finally gone, huh?"

"Yes. Before, it was just battles against petty king among Sigurd's warriors but now, I feel like my fate opened right in front of me."

"I feel it too. The beginning of a story or the end of one. All changes and now our fate rests in our hands."

"You are talking like her." Siggy snarled.

"Aslaug?" Angrboda asked. "Yes, perhaps I am. I have known her for most of my childhood and she was my master. Yes, I suppose I do sound like her. But I am not her. I do not have her gift, just as you are not Lagertha and don't have her skills. I am myself, that is all. I cannot see the future and all I can do is accept it and embrace change. I am a changeling."

"What can a woman do against the sea?" Siggy said.

"Nothing. The sea is a fearsome goddess only the love of her devoted husband can tame."

"Floki would hiss if he heard you talk like that. Your vision is too bright, much to his chagrin." Siggy laughed.

"I know. My father tends to dwell in darkness and my mother, in light. I only summon darkness when necessary." she paused. "I only summon darkness to protect you."

Siggy smiled and leaned her head towards Angrboda's to touch her forehead with hers. She could feel her hot breath against her skin and hear her gentle heartbeat. If she had been one of her many cats, Angrboda would have purred at the contact.

"Boda. You know, it is my job to protect you. And yours is to yell at me while you patch my many wounds. I dwell in blood and pain and the only realm I wish to see you rule is kindness and joy. You are too good for this world." Siggy murmured.

"I know." Angrboda smiled. "But I need you by my side, always. Who knows where you'd get a wound?"

Siggy laughed and so did Angrboda; and both women looked at the sea, betokening of adventures and battles; of legends and might. Who knew what was in England? Kings, princes and priests? Or perhaps cities made of that gold they always brought back from there.

"What was that place, back then?" Sigurd asked as he rejoined them at the back of the ship.

"And old farm. It burned a long time ago. It's the only place Bjorn doesn't know and the only place he never went to look after me, not that he even wished to. I hid often there to avoid him. Everything's better there; more peaceful and easy. It is calm and modest and it suits me." Siggy said.

"The first time she led me there, we stayed up all night telling stories of gods and legends. Sig is particularly fond of the legend of that princess, Alfhidr, but I much prefer the stories my mother had told me about the gods." Angrboda added. "And often we would devise about how we could build it back from its ashes and abide there."

"And be farmers for the rest of your life?"

"And be free Sigurd. I thought you'd understand." Siggy said.

"I do." he said. "But I am afraid my heart is changing and I long for something else."

"What?" Angrboda asked.

"I want revenge for my father, but I also want to settle and perhaps find a wife to establish a dynasty. And I know it can only be achieved through blood and violence. I am hoping that, perhaps, I can have this through raids and battles in Northumbria." Sigurd kept silent for a moment and looked at his brother, pouting in the ship beside his own. "I know Ivar desires this too, but I cannot help but long to be as far away from him as possible. I know he will succeed in whatever endeavour he undertakes, but still, I want out of his shadow."

"Sigurd," Angrboda said, gently putting her hand on his shoulder. "You were never even in his shadow."

"Really?" Sigurd snapped, colder and angered. "You tell that to mother! You tell that to Siggy!"

"Oh boy, don't drag me into this." Siggy said, raising her hands.

"She has always loved him more! Cared for him more!" he yelled, not paying attention to his niece. "She was always with him! She was always telling him how special he was! She has always favored him and me? Ha! I was nothing to her! I talked but did she listen? No! She never did! She hated me! No. She never loved me! I was nothing compared to Ivar! I wasn't lovable enough and father? Father abandonned us and when he came back, did he have any words for me? No! His voice alone was for Ivar! Ivar! Even Ubbe favors him! He is afraid and he is right to be so! Everyone is so careful around him! Giving him all he ever wants! Worshiping him in fear even! I wish mother had let him DIE!"

And at this moment, a sharp pain on his cheek shut his mouth and stifled his words. At this precise moment, Angrboda slapped him, twice, to get the nonsense out of his brain or simply to shut him up. Her slaps were something. She was not as strong as Siggy but strangely, her slaps hurt more than one of Siggy's punches.

"How DARE you? How dare you Sigurd Ragnarsson, to dwell of self-depreciation? How dare you insult your own mother and blood?! How dare you seek division among your own ranks?!" she yelled.

"Fuck me!" Siggy gasped, amazed.

"Sig, I love you, but shut up or I'll grow angrier." Angrboda warned.

Siggy chuckled silently and pinched her lips together not to laugh.

"Hear me Sigurd, and shut your mouth while I speak. Aslaug loved you. Why else would she have named you after her own father? A mighty father she had always longed to know. You are the son who is the most like her, so eager for love and peace. You are the one with her traits. You are her. She merely thought it was enough. And yes, Ivar needs special attention with his condition and although I disagree with most of her decision, I respect them. What I mean is, she loved you in her own way. And she believed you did too. But apparently she was wrong and the tears she shed thinking you loathed her, you don't deserve them."

"But..." Sigurd began.

"Aslaug never knew Sigurd Fafnirsbana. All she wanted was to know another Sigurd. She hoped you would turn as great as him." Angrboda cut him. "Deal with it or do not, but never ever dare to think Ivar's shadow surrounds you."

"But..."

"Understood?"

"Yes, Boda. Yes, I understand."

"You people and your way to surround yourselves with darkness." Angrboda sighed. "Being born in Kattegat does not suit you."

"You were born there too." Sigurd noted.

"I wasn't. I was born in the woods, closer to the true gods than you'll ever be. Freya, Frigg, Idunn, Sigyn, Gerd and Freyr, their essence runs through me and I can see what they are truly. My father claims he can too but he is wrong; Kattegat blinded him and unlike Odin, he does not know everything. He is not a god." Angrboda said.

"How is he by the way?" Siggy asked. "I heard that Ragnar's death almost had him drown."

"He is handling it well for now. But I am afraid he might want to go with Bjorn in England and kill Aelle and a few Christians as repayment."

"That is if we, Ivar, Ubbe, Hvisterk and I don't kill him first." Sigurd noted.

"Why did he stay anyway? He has no taste for ruling and cares more about his stupid map than anything else." Siggy snorted.

"His mother is in Hedeby half the year. And Torvi isn't even his wife. How could she possibly rule in his absence? There is no one but him to rule, and that is his mother's fault." Angrboda said. "Lagertha trapped herself in Kattegat; she no longer can fight in the shieldwall and no longer can she feel the speed of a ship on a heavy sea."

"That's her tragedy." Sigurd said.

"I still don't get why you don't wish to avenge her." Siggy spat. "You should kill her, just like Ivar said."

"Because I consider the debt as paid." Sigurd said. "It does not bode well to dwell on the past; one must move forward."

"Words of wisdom Sigurd, and I wish you would apply this to yourself as well." Angrboda said.

Sigurd nodded and for a moment, looked at the horizon. His future was unclear and yet, something called far away from the ship; something stirred inside of him, drawn by those lands he would come back to, to wage war. Perhaps his mother was right; perhaps he truly was destined to great things. He wasn't the kind to trust her, but he trusted magic. After all, a part of him, small and hidden in his core, loved his mother more than anything and ached from her loss.

Siggy sat down and wrapped herself in her fur cloak. Often, even surrounded by those she loved most, she felt completely and utterly alone. And sometimes she wondered if the feeling would even go away. Even free, she still felt her chains and loneliness was one of them. She was alone to understand herself and alone to sustain her needs. She never needed anyone but she desperately needed someone. She gave a sad sigh, buried her face between her knees and shed a single shameful tear before she stood up.

"Guthrum isn't there." It wasn't a question, merely a note.

"He said he'll come to England next spring." Sigurd said. "When I asked him to come, he said that he wasn't ready and needed to be beside his mother to try and reason with her. But I am afraid this is doomed to failure. Summer will be over soon and you know that Bjorn's ship won't be able to cross the Winter sea. We are the last fleet to leave and I hope we will provide our brothers who left in the beginning of this Summer some welcome reinforcement."

"Did you tell him I was coming?" she asked with the desperation of loneliness.

Sigurd opened his mouth and tried to say something but his eyes told everything and the snake seemed to whisper 'alone' for a fleeting moment. Sigurd lowered his eyes and Angrboda gently embraced her.

"Doesn't matter." Siggy groaned as she brushed his absence aside. "I'll kick his arse soon enough. He'll pay for it and I'll bathe in his pain."

"If he hurts you I swear..." Angrboda muttered.

"You'll kill him?" Sigurd said, half-joking.

"No." Angrboda said. "I'll kill her reckless arse and tie her to her bed if that is necessary."

Siggy laughed. "I love you Boda!"

"I know."

"Sigurd, how did you afford to launch a raid so quick and how did you pay your ships?" Siggy suddenly asked. "This is troubling me ever since we left."

"I planned this raid since... Well, since Ubbe and Hvitserk left. I sent words that I was to set sail to England and a few Jarls decided to join me in such endeavour, bringing ships and warriors, recognizing in me, a prince of the blood and a true Ragnarsson. And the money, well... Let's just say that a sudden rise in my money chest was able to buy my own ship and form my own army to which I can add you as one of the main leader." Sigurd averted his eyes when money was brought on the table. "We have all been ready for weeks and we only needed to catch the tide and by chance, you provided us an occasion to leave on a day when the tide was gentle. So all went well, really. It was fated."

"When you speak of fate, you remind me of her." Siggy said with a wink. "You have the same spark in your eyes, Sigurd Aslaugsson."

"Perhaps..." Sigurd breathed. "Or perhaps not." he turned towards the front of the ship. "I better go see Gye. Maybe she'll know about her half-brother's reasons to stay in Kattegat and what he knows about our plans. Would be a shame if Bjorn knew we took you in."

Siggy gave a thankful nod and watched him walk away. "He does not like being reminded of his mother." she noted.

"No, he doesn't." Angrboda agreed. "I have a gift for you." she said, pulling out of her purse a necklace on which was tied a small wooden figure. "I carved it last night; Freyr. To protect you."

Siggy looked at the necklace and gave the warmest of smile. Gently, she took it from her hand and put it around her neck with all the delicacy she could. It was simple and yet so full of love; and Siggy knew, from one look at the pendant, that it was in fact effective. She knew Angrboda enough to believe that she was able to talk with the gods and that she possessed such a quiet magic it was impossible to feel it unless one was close enough from her to notice.

"Thank you, Boda. Hopefully, it will do wonders." Siggy said.

"On you? Please! Its protection is diminished! It will only make you hurt less." Angrboda sarcastically said, brushing aside Siggy's words with her hand.

Siggy laughed and after a look at her, Angrboda burst into laughter as well. Siggy put an arm around her and rested her head on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and felt it, her friend's heartbeat and he quiet and calm presence; a serene certitude that she would forever be by her side. And for a brief moment, her loneliness eased, as she let herself go.

She was alone, but Angrboda was here. At least, that counted for something.

* * *

For three days, Solveig had asked about Siggy. And for days all she ever got was looks of distrust and fearful people running away from her. Kattegat's atmosphere was so different from home.

Back home, everyone knew their neighbor and the evolution of the town as high place of trade brought altogether the people who lived there for they had all lived the same tragedies. Of course, men still quarelled as it was in their nature but women tended to soothe them through long afternoons baking together or weaving sails for their knarrs; and among them, was Borghild who recently became the oldest woman in town and the wisest; and suddenly, all recognized in her that figure she was ever since she reached adulthhod a long time ago, a wise woman and the highest figure of autority in the village.

In fame, she was only outdone by Thorunn who became the village's protector and the leader of an army she tried to gather and bend to her will; and in wisdom, many considered her as equally skilled as gods and goddesses. The village did not bow to any kings or any jarls; the village was alone but led by an old wise woman. The village was peaceful and free and quarells hardly shook it. There was no games of power there, only a common will to survive in a world that relentlessly changed.

But Kattegat wasn't like that, no. Kattegat was distrust as it witnessed too many wars for a cursed wooden throne to live afterwards. In Kattegat, everyone sought to kill their neighbor and claim a parcel of land, a piece of bread or even a grain of sand. Kattegat was large and big but even with so much inhabitants and vibrant colors from the South, it had become still and dull; and it no longer grew for people prevented it from doing town was prosperous and well defended but its rise to the greatest trading port in Jelling had increased covetousnesses and nothing was enough to quench people's thirst for power. In this town, Solveig felt the heavy burden of several civil wars, families torn apart for power, killing one another in the back like cowards, driven by their own ambition and selfishness.

In Kattegat, there was nothing but distrust anymore. How different from what Thorunn told her. How different from everything she ever knew.

"Excuse me," she politely asked to a young maiden that came nearby the harbour, for what seemed to be the thousand time. "Have you heard of a girl named Siggy?"

"No, sorry." the maiden said. "But perhaps they can tell you in the great hall."

"Thank you." Solveig said.

She was about to head to the great hall when a voice stopped her feet in mid-air. "Where are you going?" Siegfried asked.

"Afraid for your sister, huh?" Solveig joked with a smile.

"We are in enemy territory and Thorunn isn't there to protect you. Of course I worry." he shrugged, suddenly red.

"Don't worry, little brother, I can take care of myself. Now, please, finish what you have to do and tell Einar I'll be back soon." she joyfully said, kissing the top of his head.

"Tsk! Stop!" he groaned, shrugging himself away from her grasp.

Solveig laughed as she fastened her belt around her waist and seathed her sword. She gave a look full of affection to her young brother and walked away, towards the great hall of Kattegat, perhaps the place she should have started looking for Siggy; but again, she wasn't sure of what happened to the girl and even less did she know of where she was.

When she arrived to the great hall, the doors were open and it seemed no one was there if not for a woman, a few children and a handsome blond young man, leaning against a pillar, looking at the woman with contempt.

"Hello?" Solveig said.

"The king is not here. Come back later." the woman coldly said with no look at her.

"I am not here to see the king." Solveig said. "I am here because I want to know something."

"Did you not hear me the first time?" the woman stood up, all dressed in leather armor, a heavy line of khol circling her eyes and her pale blonde hair braided in a fierce style. "Come back later." she stepped towards Solveig, her head held high, looking down on her.

Solveig growled. "Are you his wife?"

A spark of anger briefly lit her eyes but sorrow and bitterness soothed it. Her lips suddenly quivered as if she was about to weep or bite and she waited to decide between the two.

The young man behind her chuckled and bit in his apple. The woman heard and her shoulders lowered for a bit; and for a moment, she looked miserable, alone, humiliated. But then, she rose again and took back her queenly stance.

"I am not his wife." she muttered, teeth clenched.

"But you are in the king's hall." Solveig said.

The woman gave a smile and went to sit on one of the two high chairs of the room. She eased herself in and gripped the arm-rest as if it was her rightful place.

"I am. And in the king's absence, I rule. But do not mistake me for his wife, or for a queen; for we all know who truly sit on the king's chair and she is mightier than any shieldmaidens on Midgard."

"If you must say so." Solveig shrugged.

"I do. No one outdoes her."

Solveig sighed. "Yes? Tell me her name, then!"

"Her name is Lagertha, queen of Jelling, Jutland and Hedeby."

"Quite a kingdom, huh?" Solveig said with a quick smile. "Lagertha... Like, Lagertha, mother of Bjorn Ironside?"

"Yes. And her son's rightful place is here, beside me, in battle or in bed."

So this was Bjorn's replacement for Thorunn. So this was the place where lived the people who had betrayed her. Solveig hated it. If it was for her, that place would have burned to the ground long ago.

And that woman... That entitled woman who held her head high like a queen and looked like a shieldmaiden! That woman who claimed no one was as geat as a woman who abandoned a child! That woman so fragile and insecure that clung to a throne she did not even have her place on. Solveig disliked her. No, her place wasn't here. It was Thorunn's. And that woman took it. If is had been for her, Solveig would have yelled that she did not deserve it. She would have brought her down and punch the cockiness out of her and screamed the name of Thorunn. But she did not. Einar and Siegfried's trade depended on her words and curtesy and as much as she loathed that woman in front of her, she couldn't help pitying her.

"So, what brought you here?" she asked.

"My name is Solveig, and I am here to gather information on behalf of... someone."

"I am Torvi. Speak."

"I... Do you know of a girl named Siggy?" Solveig hesitantly asked.

"I have known of many women named Siggy." Torvi said. "Which one are you talking about?"

Solveig rolled her eyes and sighed.

"If my answer displeases you, you can go." Torvi said.

"I don't even know what she looks like!" Solveig yelled. "Fuck! That was useless! Thank you for your time and good-bye!"

"I think I know who you are talking about." the man said, casually leaning on a pillar. "Siggy Bjorndottir. Isn't it?"

"Yes." Solveig said, giving a heavy sigh of relief. "Yes, that is her I am talking about."

"Should have said that earlier." he shrugged.

"So where is she? I must speak to her. Thatis, if she exists."

"Our king went to search for her since it appears she disappeared a few days ago. Hence why he isn't here on this throne to put you in your rightful place." Torvi said as one of her children came on her lap.

"I don't even abide by your law." Solveig groaned. "I am merely here as an escort for my merchant brother and his merchant master."

"And yet, you provoke me."

"If you must take it that way."

"Don't worry, ever since she got impregnated with a Ragnarsson's seed, she thinks herself as a queen and not as what she really is; a traitor and a whore." the man snorted with disdain.

"Guthrum!" Torvi voiced, more hurt than angered.

The man shrugged and took another bite of his apple. He was tall, a blonde as his mother and bore a ginger beard which was finely trimmed. His hazel eyes could have been warm if they were not filled with bitterness and anger. His voice was cold and Solveig could feel, just by looking at him, that he would do anything to fulfill his goals whatever they were. And his merciless attack towards his own mother finished to confirm her impression.

"Why are you asking for Siggy?" Torvi asked.

"That is none of your business. I am here for her, that is all. But since she disappeared, it seems like I wasted my time and yours. I apologize."

"That is my business." Torvi said. "I am her father's companion."

But not her mother, Solveig thought. And she knew Thorunn enough to have deduce that Siggy was in fact her daughter; for, many times, she mentionned her lost child when she was exhausted and although she tried to hide her unglorious past behind a smile and sweat, Solveig had managed to deduce that she was the Ironside's wife and that her sudden care for a girl named Siggy was one of a mother. Solveig appeared stupid to many, but in truth, she wasn't. And, all by herself, she deduced of Thorunn's past.

"Doesn't matter." she muttered. "She is gone who knows where. But she is still alive, yes?"

"As far as I know." Torvi said.

"My mother doesn't know much of Siggy. But I do know much more about her." Guthrum said. "I can tell you for sure that she is alive and well and that she is one of the fiercest shieldmaidens that ever existed." he looked at his mother with a mocking grin. "If not the fiercest."

"That is enough informations since no one seems to know where she has gone. Thank you very much." Solveig said with a polite smile.

Torvi returned the smile and so did Guthrum. But although Guthrum knew of Siggy's plans and where she was, he did not want to tell; not even if he was blood-eagled like his father. Siggy was too important to him, too precious. He loved her and did not want her gone to a place he could not achieve his ambitions. And he had a lot of ambitions.

As for Torvi, although she had not the slightest idea of where her lover's offspring was, she wouldn't have told anyone since she trusted that Bjorn's reasons to keep her in Kattegat were the right ones. She was his support and she would do anything to protect his ambitions. She would be her queen if he needed too, waiting for the true queen to take the seat she conquered. Kattegat was all, although she had always hated the place. Power was all, although she had never wanted it. And loyalty was all; for a man who was the first to show a genuine interest in her and for a woman who accepted her as she was and protected her from her last husband and took care of Guthrum.

And Solveig's loyalty was for Thorunn; the woman who freed her and saved her life. The woman who taught her to fight and the woman who brought love back into her little girls heart.

As she made her way out of the hall, she bumped into a tall man, blonde and blue-eyed. He looked at her with confusion and turned to Torvi.

"I see we have a visitor."

"Bjorn." Torvi said with a smile, instantly standing up. "Have you found her?"

"No. Alas, she is nowhere to be found. I went to see Helga but she doesn't know where she is and her daughter's gone too."

"And Floki?"

"He doesn't know either. He has not spoken to his daughter since three days. And they do not talk much."

"You will find her, right?"

"Of course. I promised her to Rognvald and I do not want to lose this alliance. It is too important for our endeavour in England."

Guthrum snorted and walked out of the hall, not bothering slamming into Bjorn's shoulder. He never cared about him nor did his mother. He was a burden for them both and they clearly made him understand that, so why bother being polite with them?

Bjorn groaned with anger and shook his shoulders to take back a regal posture; and true, he looked regal with his heavy fur cloak and his long hair. But mostly, he looked full of himself like Torvi, convinced that whatever he did was good and justified and that he owned the world. He was the son of a king and now the king of a queen. He was so different from what Thorunn rarely told Solveig about him.

"Rognvald will arrive soon. I want Siggy back to Kattegat by then and she will marry him even if I have to tie her to a chair."

"Is Siggy your daughter?" Solveig asked although she already knew the answer.

Bjorn looked at her but did not answer. Was she his daughter? Once, perhaps, when Thorunn was still there to care for her and raise her. But Thorunn was gone and Siggy was an aching memory of her scarred face and of her abandonment; of her betrayal. And Bjorn's heart shrinked and there was no place for love anymore.

Solveig gave a nod and left the hall. "Who are you?" Bjorn asked.

"A shieldmaiden here on behalf of my village to trade with Kattegat."

"Then I look forward to trade with your village and perhaps build an alliance in future endeavours." Bjorn said.

"I am afraid we do not have anough warriors to fulfill your ambitions. They are either dead or wounded." Solveig bitterly said, recalling the day her father and mother died.

"So I hope your king or your jarl treats you well and protect you."

"Whe have no king or jarl but a wise woman to lead us. As for protection, we need none but wolves' and bears'."

"The gods sometimes send unexpected protectors. I am glad they send them to protect your village. I hope you will find in Kattegat all you need. I shall arrange a barn for you and your merchant companions to sleep in."

"All my thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to them."

Bjorn motionned his hand towards the exit and at last, Solveig was out of this freezing hall, so dark and gloomy which was lightless in spite of the fire crackling into the firepit and went back to her brother, laying on the deck of the longship while Einar was who-knew-where, trading some furs and other things he bought back in Rusland.

Solveig sat down next to him, slapping his legs out of her way with a smile. Siegfried straightened his back and moved with an annoyed groan as his sister laughed.

"Went it well?" he asked.

"In a way." she said. "I have the informations Thorunn asked me to gather so I suppose I had what I came for."

"Good." he stretched. "Einar told me that we will stay for a while here, so I am afraid that you will not be able to tell Thorunn about what you found right away."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Something to do with Winter and a harsh storm coming." he shrugged.

"Well that's a relief I found us a shelter, then."

"What?"

"The king. He agreed to let us sleep in a barn."

"But who will guard the boat and all the merchandise?" he asked with genuine worry.

"I will." Solveig reassured him. "I am your guard so it is natural this task falls to me."

Siegfried nodded and suddenly blushed. "What did Thorunn ask you to do." he asked.

Solveig gave an amused smile. "She asked me to gather informations on Bjorn Ironside's daughter. She wanted to know whether she was alive or not. That is all she told me. Her plans will depend on those informations, I believe."

"What plans?"

"I don't know. She hasn't told me yet. But as soon as we get back home, I will know."

"I wonder how she is. I wonder if no berserker has harmed her."

"I know her. She would never let a man kill her."

"I hope all is well back there. I hope Borghild is well." Siegfried said, gazing at the darkening sky above.

"Thorunn is there anyways. She will protect the village with her growing army. That is what she always did."

"She scares me sometimes." he confessed.

"And sometimes she appears more fragile than a baby bird. Such are women; wrath but also weakness. But we are stronger than what we let on and especially mothers."

"Still, I wonder what Thorunn is up to." Siegfried whispered.

Solveig gently put an arm around her brother's shoulders and drew him closer to her as she gently stroked his hair like she did when they were younger and he needed to be comforted after a nightmare. Solveig knew he was anxious and she could not blame him for she loved Thorunn too and Kattegat was a place filled with snakes and survived on nothing but a legend, a whisper, an idea of a king mighty enough to make other kings and empires bow to his hand. Kattegat was a poison she hoped to get ridden of soon. Kattegat wasn't her home. Her home was with Thorunn and Borghild, back at this little village that thrived ever since the wandering berserker fought to free them from raids.

But Solveig knew she would come back to Kattegat, for her instinct told her that Thorunn's decision would always come to vengeance and retaliation. And it seemed that the Norns sought to prove her right.

* * *

 ** _GUESS WHO UPDATED THIS FIC AFTER DECADES OF IT BEING UNUPDATED?, THAT'S RIGHT! THAT'S ME! For real, I hope you enjoyed this chapter I wrote in WHAT? THREE DAYS? WOW! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! So long ppl! See you in a century for another update ;)_**


	4. 1-04: Blood and Raids

Weeks after their departure, the ships led by Ivar and Sigurd Ragnarsson finally saw the coast of England. It was a scene like no other. It was almost magical to see a new land come out of the mist, there but not there at the same time. It was almost unreachable, a pipe dream, beautiful and dazzling; and as cliffs and sandy shore appeared in front of her eyes, Siggy marveled. It was everything she ever wanted and there she was. Finally.

Angrboda gave her a look full of tenderness and kissed the top of her head. They were there. At last they were there. Siggy would fight and Angrboda would heal. They were there; the beginning of their fate; of the thread of their destinies and who they were born to be.

The ships ploughed into the mouth of a large river and rowed for a while, crossing forests and hills and lonely farms; and a few hours later, found a perfect spot to settle. Men and women unloaded the ships, went to fetch some wood to build tables, chairs and lit fires while some mounted the tents, put horses in runs and thick furs on beds made of straw. When the sun set behind the horizon, the camp was already protected by a wall of pikes, the tents were all mounted and the first fires were lit to broth soup and other kind of food, not that it was as elaborate as in Kattegat; in time of war, little time could be dedicated to food making.

Ivar had been overseeing the settlment from a high chair while Sigurd had worked on blades and seen if they were sharp enough to cut a man in half. He had trained and seethed insults towards his little brother who had later thrown axes at him he had dodged with his shield. It seemed that quarelling with his brothers gave him more training – much to Angrboda's annoyance - and often, Siggy yelled at Ivar who merely grinned at them, judging that an unsoft Sig was something rare enough to enjoy.

At night, the sounds were so different from what Siggy had heard back in Kattegat. It seemed that there was more and a variety of them she never heard. The smell itself was different; it was no longer the smell of rain, pine trees and moss, but the smell of grass, river, fertile soil, oaks and rain on ferns; it was the smell of a land full with opportunities and resources. Siggy opened her eyes in the dark and grinned as she thought of her freedom. She turned to Angrboda's sleeping face beside her and marveled at how tranquil she was and at how beautiful she was.

"I will protect you." she murmured.

"And I shall return the favor, Sig." Angrboda replied with a smile.

Siggy gasped with surprise, then chuckled. Angrboda, like herself could hardly sleep with so many sounds to hear and Siggy gently took her hand in hers. And both fell asleep, like they used to when they were younger and Siggy was just a child of the wilds.

* * *

The next day began with training and tydying the camp. Siggy trained with Gye Torsteindottir and although the woman was strong and had large muscles, Siggy managed to prevail upon her, not without bruises which led Angrboda to a near stroke. Gye was strong and her blows damaged the shield Siggy was wielding and with a punch, she made her opponent bleed and Siggy was certain her nose had been broken. Gye was an experienced warrior and Siggy hoped not to cross her path on a bad day.

Gye was tall and buff and so unlike her half-brother; like Siggy she had long blonde hair testifying of her status, and like Siggy, she was covered with scars, some on her nose and some on her cheeks. Gye was taller than even a Jotunn and if she did not know her, Siggy would have been terrified of her. Gye was a wonder of muscle and strength and Siggy marveled at her body in motion. Gye was a war machine; she has been born for the raid and, often, she proved it.

Siggy let herself fall beside Gye and gave a laugh as she wiped sweat off her face. "You are good, Gye,"

"You are good too. You will be a valuable ally in the shieldwall."

"Your strength... It is fascinating. Tell me, is your brother like that? Should we worry?"

"This arsehole is no better than me at fighting. I almost tear an ear from his head with my teeth once, when he insulted my mother. He may have Bjorn's favours, but I have strength to rely on. I will forge my path and carve a status for myself with my fists and nails if I have to, but I shall do that on my own. I do not want to owe anyone anything." Gye seethed. "I wouldn't worry about him if I were you. I did not tell him anything about you as I ignored you were part of the journey and with Winter coming, I doubt Bjorn will come to get you any moment."

"Good. Because I do not want marriage with Rognvald. If I ever marry him, I will have to kill him."

"Not that Guthrum won't do it anyway."

Siggy gave a bitter laugh. "You don't know him like I do. Guthrum, no matter how he claims he hate the Ironside, is afraid of him. He won't do anything if he does not secure a backup plan. He is careful, my Guthrum. And one day, maybe, I hope he can ask my hand freely. Being married to him would suit me."

"He is the son of Jarl Borg. You know... I am not certain we can trust him. After all, his father once tried to take Kattegat and Jelling, he has treachery in his blood."

Siggy kept silent and looked at Sigurd sitting near Ivar under the main tent. "Perhaps..."

"My father fought against him, Siggy. I am not sure I can forget that."

"You care about a man you never knew."

"That is true. He made me and my mother suffer and abandonned us; and because of him, my mother and this other whore grew a cold hatred they passed on Horek and I, but, Siggy, I am not sure I want to resent him forever. At one point, I have to let go and consider myself more as my own creation than my genitors'. I want to love my father and believe in those stories they tell of him; of his bravery and how loyal he was to Ragnar Lothbrok. That is what I want from him; I want his loyalty. That is why I have trouble trusting Guthrum."

"Can you trust me, though? I may have Ragnar's blood in my veins but by no means am I of his family. I loathe everything that connects me to them unless we are talking about Sigurd and Ubbe. I only seek their demise, one fated day. Can you trust me in spite of this?"

Gye's eyes grew darker and she looked down. "You are loyal to Sigurd. That is more than enough for me. You and I are comrades on the battlefield and I trust you to kill our enemies and have my back. That is enough."

Siggy nodded, satisfied with the answer. She did not expect Gye to like her, she only expected to marvel at her strength and fight alongside her. She knew of Gye's distrust of hers and she knew they maybe would never be friends for their views were drastically different on certain matters; Gye admired Lagertha and had been close to Aslaug once, while Siggy loathed them both and while Gye was loyal to power, Siggy wasn't and would betray whoever would stand in the way of her satisfaction. But on the battlefield, all that mattered was victory and survival and Siggy knew she could trust Gye on that.

Someone cleared one's throat behind them and Siggy turned to see Angrboda's radiant face, smiling to both women.

"Boda!" Siggy exclaimed with joy.

"Siggy, you are wanted in the main tent. Sigurd requested your presence. And Gye, I will have to inspect your bruises and cuts later."

"What about mine?" Siggy asked.

"You can choke." Angrboda coldly said. "Get your ass to the main tent, now."

Siggy gave a laugh and stood up to head towards her uncle and the leaders of this small army they brought from Kattegat to Northumbria.

"Siggy." Gye called.

"Hm?" Siggy stopped of a sudden and turned to her interlocutor.

"If you ever go against my loyalty, you're dead." Gye said.

Siggy grinned. "Then do your best."

Gye returned the grin and stood up while Siggy went to sit among her uncles and the other leaders of the army; some, sons of imporant jarls of Gotaland, Skaane or Juteland, who joined the two youngest sons of Ragnar in a quest that would bring them land, riches and fame. Many of them were last sons and unlikely to inherit of anything back home, which strengthened their will to prevail against Saxon forces and conquer a fertile land.

"Ah, Siggy!" Sigurd said, smiling at her with glowing joy. "Glad you are here, at last."

Ivar rolled his eyes and gave his niece a cold grin to which she answered with cold eyes.

"Thank the gods you are here, Ivar would have killed me first thing I would have said." Sigurd whispered.

"If he tries something, I'll prove him how unsoft I am, Sig. And he will be unrecognizable to the gods themselves." the shieldmaiden whispered back.

"Enough of civilities," Ivar hissed. "We have a war to fight and a plan to make."

"Ivar is eager to fight, I see. If even a legless man like him is given Tyr's blessing then, surely, victory is ahead of us." one of the men gathered around the table said.

"Eystein is right!" a man named Leif said, raising his cup.

"But why is a woman sitting at our table, that is something to wonder, especially considering her high beauty she hides beneath filth and mud. What a shame for a diamond to be willingfully tarnished." Eystein purred lustfully looking at Siggy.

"Can Sigurd Ragnarsson explains it?" asked Leif, turning to the concerned party.

"Siggy is as much a warrior as I am. She is as strong as Gye Torsteindottir, daughter of Bjorn Ironside." Siggy growled as Sigurd declaimed his words. "The blood of Ragnar flows in her veins as well as Lagertha's. She is a grand-daughter and daughter of shieldmaiden and shieldmaiden herself who fought greater opponents than her or even the mighty Lagertha. I trust Brynhildr, the valkyrie, passed strength onto her. She is your superior in blood, my second in command and I trust her."

"As for my high beauty, as you call it," growled Siggy. "I do not think it matters on the battlefield. Beauty is nothing. I can be ugly for all I care but I shall not be weak. If you want to fully realize my worth, then fight me and I shall bear your head on my belt!" she spat.

Ivar gave a cold chuckle, amused by the scene and the fierceness of Siggy whose eyes shot fire and thunder and were more frightening than death itself; so cold and full with anger. Had Siggy beheaded a man in front of him, he would have been pleased and laughed and rejoiced of carnage. But alas, she did not and Ivar cursed her tempest that never came.

"Now that you have been informed of the reasons behind her presence," said Ivar to a pale Leif and a blanch Eystein. "perhaps will you let us discuss of a plan to conquer Northumbria and secure what we have come to conquer."

"What do you suggest, Ivar?" Sigurd asked.

Ivar rolled his eyes again and shot a glare towards Sigurd who sipped his ale with contempt. Being asked what to do by his older brother strangely annoyed him.

"Ubbe and Hvitty are in Wessex as of right now, fighting against king Aethelwulf and king Aelle who came to the aid of his son-in-law upon his daughter's plea, or so my spies told. At the moment, my ambitions lies in England and I desire to conquer the whole of it."

"Then, why are we not in Wessex?" asked Leif hesitantly.

"Because, and it pains me to admit it, Sigurd was right to aim for Northumbria. It fits the moment." said Ivar with pain, as if words were ripped out of his mouth through sizzling knives.

Sigurd chuckled silently, mocking and merciless towards Ivar whose hand came close to his axe. But one look of Siggy and he gave a cold apologetic smile before his hand dropped.

"Aelle is away with the vast majority of his army. He never expected an attack. I sent words to our brothers, south, to keep the kings busy while we seize Northumbria, or at least, part of it. We need strongholds to hold to keep our presence in those lands. We need raids and conquest. And as long as the army is busy elsewhere, we have all he chances to conquer Northumbria."

"Not enough." muttered Sigurd.

Ivar's eyes grew dark. "What?" he growled. "What did you just say?"

"I said, that is will not be enough, Ivar." Sigurd answered with the same anger. "You know how to conquer, fine! But we need to keep the power! We need to have the support of Aelle's nobles! We need peace as much as we need steel."

"I agree with Sigurd." said Eystein.

"Then, what do you suggest?" Ivar coldly asked, motionning his hand to his brother.

"We stick to your plan. We raid; spread terror across the land. We fight and conquer and decimate half of the remaining army here. And when your thirst for Saxon blood is quenched, we stop, and meet with the true masters here. We ask for their loyalty and if they ever betray us, you kill them the way you see fit." said Sigurd with rage. "Would that suit you, brother?"

Ivar forced out a doleful agreeing face and turned his head away. "Perhaps." he growled.

"Good. Then, do we have a plan?" asked Sigurd.

"Aye." said the men around the table but Ivar.

"Yes." said Siggy.

"Good. Then, let's eat, I am hungry. First raid will happen tonight. Siggy, you will be among the warriors to fight." Sigurd said standing up.

Siggy opened her mouth and smiled. She looked over the chieftains' defiant faces, judging that an inexperienced woman was something to avoid on the battlefield. Siggy could hear their whispers and how they talked about her. Too dirty or too beautiful; too young or too strong; woman or warrior, if there was something they agreed on it was uncertainty about her talent at battle. And Eystein who couldn't get his eyes off her, licking his lips. Siggy could picture his thought so vividly she considered dwelling into the sea never to feel so filthy again.

"Sigurd!" she called, running after her uncle.

"What?" ased Sigurd, stopping to let her get to where he was standing.

"Why was I here sitting amidst experienced warriors and chieftains?" asked Siggy.

"Because you are a chieftain of mine, Sig."

"Gye is better than me."

"Perhaps, but you are my family and as such, your ranks allows you to be the leader of shieldmaidens."

"I am unexperienced."

"On battlefield, yes. But I know for sure than you are smater and stronger than most of the men here. You're going to be fine."

"And if I lose warriors?"

"Don't."

"I am not a leader, uncle Sigurd."

Sigurd flinched at the name. "I am your leader and as such I tell you what to do and here's what you're going to do: you are going to lead those women in battle and you are going to win. No defeats, no loss. Those will only be a few raids to forge your battle spirit; 'tis not yet a great battle. You will have to fight in a lot of raids before you know the thrill of an army riding upon you."

"Sig..."

"Do not disobey my orders, Siggy. The gods knows I bear with enough of your behavior at home, but here, I command you."

Siggy's face grew hard. "What will you tell Gye?"

"Gye will respect my decision. I am her commander. We'll see what you're worth as a leader tonight."

"As you command." said Siggy. "Uncle Sigurd." she added with a wink.

Sigurd shivered and Siggy laughed. Teasing him would forever be her favorite game and he was always a delight a scene. Under his gaze, she trotted to Angrboda's tent from which Gye walked out. The tall and buff woman gave her a hard look which softened as she saw Sigurd and she walked towards him while Siggy entered the tent, peering at Gye, who she never saw that moved.

"Seems like Gye is not as cold as she wishes to appear." said Siggy with a smiling voice.

"She has a tender heart." said Angrboda as she tidied her healing tent.

"Like you." whispered Siggy, taking her friend's hand in hers.

Angrboda gave a warm smile. "Only when you are safe. When you are not, dark spirits takes me; spirits of wrath, like my father loves them."

"Then, I dread your fury tonight." Siggy sat on a stool. "Sigurd wants me to lead shieldmaidens on a raid tonight and Eystein is said to be part of this endeavour."

"That is what you desire; to fight and spread fury. I do not want to go against your desires and cage you against your will. You are free to do whatever you please, but if I must command you one thing, that is this: come back alive and whole. I will yell for bruises and cuts, but I will die for death and missing limbs." Angrboda's eyes suddenly watered the grass.

"Boda," Siggy took her other hand in hers. "All will be well. You know me, my Boda, I always survive. My thread has not yet ended."

"There are things you don't tell me."

"You read me like no one else. Yes, there are things I don't tell you. But you are better off ignoring them."

"Sig, this does not help me." begged Angrboda.

"I know." Siggy gently wiped off Angrboda's tears with her thumbs. "But, for now, trust me as I cannot fully trust myself."

"I'll yell at you tonight."

"Sounds great." Siggy smiled.

Then, she took her friend in a warm embrace and there, they stayed for a moment out of time and space, to savor precious moment and little girls' love.

When Siggy left, when night started to fall, Angrboda made an intense effort not to weep; for she had seen what raids brought to men, she had gone with Ivar and Sigurd on too many raids and healed too many warriors not to see the outcome of battles. She feared for Siggy and also for Gye. She feared for their safety and could not help picturing her future without her, so dull and miserable and full of pain a hundred time worse than her aching heart. It was hard mourning an alive friend. It was even harder when that said friend was a sister to her.

The long line of warriors crossed a hollow forest towards a village nearby, walled and asleep, not knowing of the dread that was about to srike upon them. A sentinel was watching over the gates and Eystein turned to Siggy.

"So, pretty face, what are we to do?" he asked.

"Gye." called Siggy. "That man, kill him. There will be other men in the village. They are in constant fear of an attack since the first raids in England so I suggest we enter the village quietly and then, we gather all the guards in the same place and we slaughter them. What do you say?"

"Agreed." whispered Gye.

"And Eystein," said Siggy with a sudden cold and harsh voice. "My tolerance to violence has its limits and if any of your men is seen dick thrusted in a Saxon woman, I'll have him killed and I'll bath in his blood. Is that clear?" she seethed.

"Whatever!" shrugged Eystein. "Saxon women aren't worth ours, beautiful. I'd rather fuck you than them."

"I'm going to kill him, I swear." raged Siggy for herself. "Alright, go. Go!"

And they started to move like the beasts they were, to slaughter and spread terror; to rob and take slaves; to a most unfair battle that would bring them no glory if not the promise of a greater battle ahead and Valhala at the end of the road.

Gye was the first to strike. With her axe, she opened the sentinel's skull with a disgusting crack, then, struck his chest. The man fell on the ground, to water it with pieces of guts, brain and blood pouring from open wounds. Then, began the game.

The attackers quietly invaded the village, made sounds and misled guards towards the centre of the village. The ones that realized what was happening and tried to fight? They were mercilessly killed, without a sound. After an hour or so, all men were gathered together, waiting, scared and brisk, looking around and panicked.

Then, they came; out of their shadows, wielding shields and axes, determined to win against a few warriors. They formed a circle around the soldiers and then, they attacked.

It was a quick fight and both sides were full with rage and determination. The Saxons struck the shields as hard as they could, some even ripped off wood and leather, cut deep in flesh and arms, distabilized men and women and roared in their tongue that their God would grant them victory. The raiders roared back, shouting Tyr, Thor and Freya's names, opening skulls and chests with axes, piercing limbs with spears, slashing bodies with swords. Within a few minutes, the ground grew red.

It was carnage.

Siggy worked her hand around the leather of her shield, not to lose it and gripped the pommel of that sword Sigurd had made her long ago, and she fought. She laughed as blood spattered on her face and grinned as she saw how fearful men were of her. With rage, violence and savagery, she reduced a man's body to a gaping wound, unrecognizable by his god and she severed another's arm before she dodged a blow by what seemed to be the strongest of them all. She sparred with him with all her strength, striking hard and loud. He got to cut her and give her a few bruises, but she managed to slaughter the man, while beheading another with a blow of her axe.

When she looked at Gye, she was done with one of the guards and she violently twisted his neck and he died in a crack. Her fists were red with blood; she had a swollen eye, a few cuts and bruises, but nothing she couldn't overcome with Angrboda's help.

And when she looked at herself, she saw nothing but blood. She was certain of many cuts and wounds on her face, but what troubled her was the weird angle her arm made and it was only when she noticed it she realized how much she suffered from it.

"Shit!" she cursed, griding her teeth out of pain. "She's gonna kill me!"

But it was not yet time to savor victory, for the raid was not over. The first screams came from a woman, witnessing the massacre, awoken by the raging battle. The raiders ran towards the houses, burned to the ground churches, robbed supplies and food, stole riches, killed whoever dared to resist them and took prisoners to sell as slaves. It was all fire, blood and tears; screams of terror and howls of agony.

It was an entire different reality than what Siggy expected. Where was the glory the men told about when they spoke about raids? Where was fairness and honor? Certainly not there. But war is cruel and such was its law; war was cruel and the most unfair battles could be justified.

A man fell beside her, struck by an axe, and a few women were chained nearby. A girl called for her mother before she was shot by an arrow and a little boy was hiding, all crouched under a cart while squalls of terror echoed amidst burning houses. The whole village was reduced to shreds of its former life.

Siggy, with a single blow of her axe, as her broken arm was dangling beside her, slit a man's throat and kept blustering, dicarding her pain that did far from dwindle. She bit and punched and twisted necks, not seeing anything but places to strike and enemies to kill. Her instincts were blood and rage and violence and in those arts, she excelled. Even with one arm, she was a dread.

The smell of burning flesh and guts and blood and shit was suffocating and the sizzling pangs of her arm almost stifled her. Her heart was aching and she felt so dizzy she believed she would pass out on this disloyal battlefield.

But then, some screams coming from one of the house drew her to enter and witness such a scene she saw red and wanted to set the whole world ablaze, the sea with it. One of Eystein's men was there, half naked, choking a saxon woman who he had undressed while he thrusted his cock inside of her, wetting it with his spit, wetting her through her clit. He violently banged her while she tempested and punched him, cursed and begged for mercy and for her life to end, dishonored forever. Lit by red fire outside, this scene seeped deep into Siggy's heart, piercing it like a thousand arrows while her rage intensified as if Fenrir had been freed from his chains.

With a raging roar, she struck the man in the back with her axe, pulled him backwards, freeing the woman who hastily stepped back to her bed and watched as Siggy turned him around, her axe, covered with his blood, to hoist him on the table, almost hurling with the suffering of her doleful arm. The man tried to resist, but the shieldmaiden removed his helmet only to break his skull with it.

"You are not worthy of my sword." Siggy seethed.

And with her long knife, she beheaded him under his screams, pleas for mercy and curses. But Siggy didn't care; and she grinned with satisfaction as his blood poured down the earth, to rot there and to curse the very place of his malevolent actions. And she held his head to look at this trophy she tied to her belt, covering herself with the rapist's blood.

Then, she turned to the saxon woman and her face softened. She knelt in front of her and wiped out her tears. The woman moved away, as bitten by a serpent, weeping and begging for death to come.

"I do not abide by this." said Siggy in her own tongue as she sheathed her long knife and unsheathed her sword just in case.

"Kill me." sobbed the saxon woman. "Kill me like you killed my son and husband."

"I don't understa..."

But suddenly, the woman held Siggy's shoulders only to throw herself on her blade and die as her final plea died on her lips.

And Siggy watched her die, that woman; and she swore revenge on Eystein for his deceit; and, raging against men and the world they ruled, she walked outside with a last look at that woman who took her own life, headed towards her victorious kin, amidsts goods and slaves. She untied the head from her belt and brandished it in the air for all eyes to see and spoke with a loud voice full of fury:

"Hear me out you treacherous pigs!" she screamed. "Hear me out and witness what happens when my orders are disobeyed!"

Every raiders turned to her and the scene of a young woman, holding a severed head by the hair. Agape, they saw, and aghast, they heard. Gye frowned and Eystein blanched.

"This man," Siggy threw the head at Eystein's feet. "Was caught, raping a saxon woman just as I ordered not to. He disobeyed my orders and yours and behaved in pure dishonesty. So I punished him. This is what happens when you do not abide by my commands."

"Sigurd will hear about this, beauty." Eystein warned, as he approached her, recovered from his fright.

"Tell him, then. Sigurd and I share the same beliefs. I have no doubt he will approve of me."

"And Ivar?" asked another warrior.

"Ivar can choke! He can fight me for all I care, but I did what I know is right!"

"I stand by her." Gye said.

"Very well, then." said Eystein. "For the death of a man, pay the weregild and this will be over."

Siggy nodded with satisfaction. She noticed a golden goblet on the ground and took it. She briefly conisdered it before she handed it to Eystein.

"The weregild." she said. "For a dishonest pig, that will be more than enough."

And with those words, she walked away, beckoned her warriors to follow her, while Eystein stood there, half amused, half furious, judging that, perhaps, this little woman would provide good children.

Back in the camp, Siggy faced a much greater opponent; someone to be feared and who she feared: an angry Angrboda. At the sight of her arm, her face grew cold and dark and her eyes seemed to throw daggers. Siggy laughed and embraced her friend who pinched her ear lobe and dragged her towards their tent under the laughter of most of the warrior. As she healed her wounds, cleaned her cuts and put back her broken bones in place with sticks and clothes – not without a great deal of pain – Angrboda kept silent, and Siggy swore she heard her sobbing.

Siggy told her everything that happened, meanwhile. She told her of the battle, of how unfair she thought raids and how dishonorable this victory had been; she told her of the men she killed, of the raped saxon woman and of how she killed one of Eystein's men.

"Good." muttered Angrboda.

"I am sorry you were so worried." said Siggy.

"You are here, now. All is well."

And Angrboda gave a smile, one of the most kind and compassionate.

Her smile faded as Sigurd entered the tent and Angrboda turned to him with a smile. He was all sleepy and rushed to see his niece who, he had been taught, came back covered with blood. He stood there for a moment, all silent and panting and when he saw she was fine, he sighed.

"Gye told me." he said.

"Everything?" asked Siggy with a sudden fear.

"From the beginning to the end and that head you cut off."

"Is that a problem?" asked Siggy.

"You paid the weregild. I made arrangement with Ivar to secure their loyalty. Incredible how useful his anger can be, channeled the right way. Perhaps a cripple can be of any use, after all..."

"Sigurd." warned Angrboda.

"What?" Sigurd spat, rolling his eyes.

"He is your brother."

"Not by heart! Only by blood and what a blood indeed! A man who abandonned children and kingdom, a coward of a king and a witch of a mother!" Sigurd raged.

"Sig..."

"Eystein's loyalty is secured. Good. But next time one of his men does what I saw that pig do, I'll set them all ablaze to honor Frey." Siggy said, gently touching her pendant representing the god.

"That is the raid." Sigurd said.

"That is dishonorable and unworthy of free men. If you pigs want to prove you are unworthy of the gods' protection, then do it out of my sight or I'll behead you."

Sigurd looked down, visibly ashamed, for once, of a thing he said. "Sleep." he said. "And recover from that broken arm. I do not want a useless shieldmaiden on the battlefield."

"Go fuck yourself!" Siggy spat.

Sigurd gave a laugh. "Take care of her." he said to Angrboda.

"Always." she replied with a tender smile.

Sigurd left the tent and went to sit by the river, melancholy taking him like a sudden wave. Here, alone, he could think and he mostly thought of his future and the future of their quest for revenge. What would happen after Aelle's death? Did he really want to keep Northumbria? What of kings and bloodline and where did he stand amidst all that?

Nobles would come soon to bargain peace, he knew that and Ivar knew that. Northumbria wasn't as united as Wessex and many sought betrayal for their personal gain, but then, if truly the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok were to rule over England, their conquest should at least be permanent, unlike their father who was betrayed and who never achieved anything in England. If they were to erase his mere name from the sagas, then, a permanent rule was the path to take.

Sigurd would have to discuss it later with Ivar, but there were good reasons to divide Northumbria, let nobles in charge of their realm, make Saxons believe they were free to worship their dead god and make them be certain that things never changed. The solution was simple, actually; nobles would become kings under the supervision and rule of the sons of Ragnar. Then, someone needed to stay in England to secure a grip on its realms and that someone, Sigurd wanted it to be him. Nothing awaited him in Kattegat; not a wife, since Magrethe chose Ubbe, not a crown – not that he wanted it anyway. He largely preferred being a skald in Kattegat – not even a mother and certainly not a future.

No. His future dwelled here, in that foreign land. Something in his very core convinced him of it. Something awaited and something was close, oh, so close from him. Was it fate? Perhaps, after all, didn't he go see the Seer before departure? Didn't he promise great things ahead? He spoke in riddles but amidst words, some things were clear; especially for a skald.

But now was not yet the moment to seize what his fate promised. Not with Ivar watching his every moves. Now, they needed to conquer and in truth, Sigurd knew it was a long game; and in that game, Ivar excelled, which only strengthened the menace he was to Sigurd's wishes of peace.

But perhaps, as the Seer told him, Ivar's future rested elsewhere. Perhaps Ivar would go away.

And Sigurd sighed with relief.

* * *

Solveig closed her eyes in the forest. It was so different here, so pure and so primal. It was freeing, being away from Kattegat the stifling town; just being here, a human being, free from schemes, politics and betrayals. It almost felt like home.

She had been walking for about an hour in the forest, finding comfort in sounds of birds singing, of waterfalls filling the fjord far from where she was, from silence and peace. It was as if she was walking to see Thorunn back in the village. She barely fought these past months and she was certain her teacher would be disappointed with her. But alas, in Kattegat, no one wanted to teach a foreigner their secrets.

She suddenly heard a crack and turned to the source of the sound, startled; and breathed as she noticed it was only a woman whose hair fell long and whose eyes were lined with khol.

"Sorry I frightened you." the woman said.

"That's alright." Solveig said, smiling. "That seems heavy." she said, pointing at the woman's bag.

"It is. Do you mind helping me?"

"Not at all." she hurried by the woman's side and took the bag on her shoulders. At last! Some replacement for training! "I'm Solveig."

"I am Helga. And if you are wondering why the heavy bag, then it is because my husband asked me to bring some of his tools back to our house." Helga said with a gentle smile. "Floki is a boatbuilder."

"Then he must have a lot of work. From what I saw, Kattegat's ships outdo everything I ever saw."

"Thank you for him."

Helga walked alongside Solveig guiding her into the woods to her strangely shaped house, so odd for a boatbuilder, as an overturned keel. There wasn't any need of words between the two women to create a connection; the simple pleasure of being away from Kattegat was enough. And although they hardly spoke, they arrived, panting and sweating to the house.

"Would you like water and food?" asked Helga with kindness.

"That is much to offer. Thank you."

Helga smiled. "Come. I haven't seen anyone but me in this house for a while."

Solveig followed her into the main room of the house and marveled at how it was built. It was so small yet, so comfortable with its small hearth where smouldering embers begged for a log to birth flames; with those four beds covered with furs and those flowers and herbs drying on the walls; with the cauldrons and pile of unfinished carving works and with colored glass and jewels spattered around the house. It clearly testified of a strong feminine presence and Solveig deduced that Helga's husband was not the kind to spend much time home. And yet, in Helga's voice, when she spoke of him, one could tell she loved him. There was a devotion impossible to miss.

Helga poured some water in a goblet and handed it to her young guest, then went to cut slices of bread from a loaf and smeared honey on it.

"Here." she said, giving it to Solveig.

"Thank you." Solveig smiled. "Do you and your husband live alone?"

"At the moment, yes." Helga said with sudden distant eyes. "We have a daughter. But she went raiding with Ivar Ragnarsson. Angrboda."

"Angr..." Solveig almost choked on water.

"Yes, I know." Helga said with sad eyes. "My husband chose that name. I would have rather named her Sigyn. It fits her better. But she is named Angrboda and I can only pray the gods for her name to remain a name and not a dark prophecy."

"Is she a shieldmaiden?" Solveig asked, curious to know more.

"Oh no." Helga dissed the idea with her hand. "Angrboda is a healer. A wonderful one. She knows the way of the plant better than even me or my friend Aslaug. She was an excellent Volva and helped many women give birth. She helped one of the girls living here to come to the world. She helped her mother give birth and I was here. It was one hell of a battle. But Thorunn overcame it with bravery. And her disappearance saddens me. For Siggy and for Bjorn."

Solveig choked on her bread and coughed. So this woman knew Thorunn! So this woman saw Siggy be born!

Helga rushed to her side and gently pat her back. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Sorry... I... Siggy lives here?"

"She does. But at the moment, we ignore where she is. She disappeared as suddenly as a wanderer." her gaze became sad and cold. "You know Siggy?"

"Only by name. Could you tell me more about her, please?"

Helga looked at her for a moment, hesitant and curious about her guest's interest about that girl her daughter forced her to shelter. Her gaze broke into a gentle smile.

"Siggy is my Angrboda's best friend. They almost grew up together and they are very close to Ivar and Sigurd Ragnarsson. Siggy is..." she laughed. "One day, she came back covered with bruises and cuts because she was fighting a boy who insulted her and as soon as Angrboda saw that, Siggy just crouched like a scared kitten. They are quite the pair, those two. My Boda found her inside the dead carcass of a deer, when she was merely a child, eating raw food. Boda pitied her and she managed to tame her and bring her to me. I gave her bread, honey, water and a very good bath. Angrboda adopted her and so did I. Only Floki disapproved, but Angrboda's determination is stronger than anything in this world."

Solveig was agape. "A deer?" she stammered. "What was she doing eating a deer?"

"No one knows. Between her third year and her seventh, no one knows what happened to her. She just disappeared."

"That sounds aweful." Solveig's voice was full of pity.

"It was. But it wasn't as sad as queen Aslaug's regrets, during her last years. She once told me, weeping and drunk that she wished she never stopped watching over her. Her regrets were so strong I felt her on the verge of an abyss." Helga sadly said, recalling that night Aslaug had called her by her side.

"Doesn't she have a family?" asked Solveig.

For a answer, Helga simply gave a sad smile; and Solveig understood. Siggy was alone, and if she had a family, if she had a father and grandmother, then, they did not care about Siggy enough to have welcomed her in their halls. And suddenly Solveig was taken by a wave of affection and gratitude for Helga and for Angrboda; for their kindness and good heart. Not on behalf of Thorunn, but on behalf of herself.

"Thank you." she whispered. "Your daughter and yourself are good women. The gods approves of good women. I hope Frey will protect you and your daughter."

Helga gave a sad smile, gently touching her belly. "Good women aren't always rewarded."

"I am sorry." Solveig mumbled.

"Don't be." Helga gently took Solveig's hand in hers. "It is the gods who decide of fates. Mine lies elsewhere. I trust the Norns and I trust my husband. If fate led me to him, then, everywhere he goes, I will follow. My wishes do not have a lot of importance in the geat tapestry, for I am only a servant of the gods and I trust them." she touched her empty and flat belly again. "This was never meant to happen. Besides, my daughter is already giving me all the joy I need."

"How brave to trust the gods and have such a faith you decide to let yourself go into their arms." Solveig said with admiration.

"We all have our own way to deal with fate. Some choose to seize it, others cannot do anything but endure it, knowing they cannot change it and others, like me, choose to trust it and embrace destiny."

"It is perhaps simpler that way."

"Perhaps... Or crueler. My husband believes the gods are cruels."

"He is wrong."

"Perhaps." Helga smiled.

"You have a fine house. And I wish you a fine life, filled with love and happiness."

"Not too much happiness. I would fatally end up unhappy."

"Those are the words of a wise woman."

"Do you have any parents?" asked Helga.

"Just a brother. Our parents died years ago. An invasion." Solveig recalled that day her family was broken and she gained a sister and a purpose. That day she died and came to the world.

"I am sorry." Helga put a compassionate hand on Solveig's.

"It was long ago. They will forever live in my heart."

"Who raised you and your brother?"

"An old woman, just as wise and generous as you are. Her name is Borghild. In the attack, she lost a husband and children. She was, to us, a mother and grandmother. She knew our parents."

"When you come back to your village, tell her my gratitude. Saving children is important for the future of what we are."

"It will be done." said Solveig as she finished drinking her cup and swallowed the last piece of bread. "Night is starting to fall, I should go back to Kattegat." she stood up. "Farewell, Helga. I do not think I will see you again anytime soon; the storm season is almost here and our ship is sailing away tomorrow morning."

"Farewell, young Solveig. Don't lose yourself into the woods."

"I will try." Solveig chuckled. "I hope you will see your daughter again soon."

Helga gave a happy and warm smile and Solveig returned it before she walked out of the house, towards the forest and that grey, dull and hollow town called Kattegat and who people claimed was the pearl of Jelling.

* * *

Guthrum waited in the great hall, watching his mother sitting on her high seat, all full of herself and so weak in her composure. His mother was a bird trying to pass as a queen and in this art, she was far from good. Had she not chosen Bjorn Ironside, son of his father's killer and abuser; had she not married Erlendur, son of Horik, at the source of the feud, Guthrum would have loved his mother. He would have admired her. But how could he admire a woman whose loyalty was against his own blood? How could he admire a woman who cowered behing arrows and never experienced the heat of the fight? How could he live in that hall where his father had been abused. Guthrum's anger smouldered and burned within, unextinguishable and perpetually burning.

His thoughts drifted to Siggy; Siggy, his angry shieldmaiden, this fierce little thing he fell for and whose blood was erased by her resentment towards her own family. Siggy, the beautiful Siggy, forever covered with filth and whose fists were feared by all the boys of Kattegat. He recalled the first time he kissed her, their love-making into the woods and even on Bjorn and Torvi's seats when the hall was empty. He recalled their secret kisses and their secret words, for if Bjorn had known his step-son was fucking his – neglected – daughter, he would have raged although he had no right to. It only made him want Siggy more.

Guthrum loved Siggy. He loved her anger and he loved her voice; and he missed her so terribly. When she wasn't here with him, Kattegat lost its interest and his hatred for the town intensified. Even Siggy longed to leave it. After all, didn't she live into the woods? Didn't she left for England? Guthrum missed her.

And he had come to a decision. And for it, he would have to betray his hatred and his father's memory. Guthrum wanted to be away from Kattegat and he was determined to get what he wanted.

Bjorn suddenly entered the great hall, followed by Horek Torsteinsson, his faithful right hand.

Horek was a tall young man, dark of hair and grey of eyes, not as muscular as his sister, Gye, but just as strong as a bear.

Guthrum twisted his arm ring and watched as Bjorn – much to his disgust – kissed his mother and sat on his high chair.

"Guthrum would like to ask you a favour." Torvi said to Bjorn.

"What is it?" Bjorn asked with a visible annoyance.

"May I speak?" asked Guthrum.

Bjorn opened his hand and waved it as to give him permission.

"I want to got to England with a fleet on my own and help to the conquest of Northumbria, and, perhaps, partake in the vengeance for Ragnar's death."

Bjorn grinned. "You know you don't want to avenge him. Why the lies?"

Guthrum grinned back. "It is true. I have no interest avenging him. But I have interests raiding and conquering. My father was once denied of this, will you, like your father, deny the son?"

Bjorn stroked his beard, thinking about what Guthrum asked. "You are Borg's heir and as such you have lands to take care of. What of Gotaland and what of your birthright? Now that you are in age to seize it, why not leave Kattegat and go there to administrate what is yours?"

Torvi gave Bjorn a shocked look. Guthrum away from Kattegat would be far too dangerous, unpredictable as he was. He could raise an army and march to Kattegat and she just became used to the place.

"My mother is capable, I believe, to oversee my earldom for me. After all, isn't it what mothers do? Ruling in their son's place?" he added a sarcastic grin for the emphasis.

Bjorn gave a cold scowl.

"Will you agree, then, to let me go to England and lead an army?"

"Bjorn." Torvi pleaded.

"If I agree, it is under certain conditions. First, Horek will be of the journey and will inform me of everything happening in England. Second, as Ubbe and Hvitserk already have a strong army in Wessex and Sigurd and Ivar left with only a few ships, you will go to Northumbria. And last, but not least, you will swear alliegeance to them and swear never to betray them, or me. I am mending a broken family, Guthrum, understand this. A united family is what will grant us riches and wealth and I owe it to my father." Bjorn gripped his arm-rests. "Upon your agreement, I will grant you ten ships and Horek, three."

"Will you raid again?" Torvi asked.

"Perhaps, but I have yet to secure an alliance with Rognvald and for that, I need Siggy. I need his ships to conquer England and avenge my father. Then, I will sail South, to that fate the Seer told me of."

"And what if you cannot find her?" Torvi asked again, her voice, harsher.

"I will find her. And she will marry. By the gods I swear it!" Bjorn turned to Guthrum. "I will make arrangements for your departure. You may need to go to Seeland and Hedeby gather a few of those ships I promised, but it will be arranged. I will send a message to my mother tonight."

Guthrum gave a scowl at the name of Lagertha. The great queen. The great queen who promised to take care of him but chose to raid instead. The woman who once fought his own father. That ageless woman who retreated in her hall in Hedeby.

"What of the kingdom if you raid?" asked Torvi.

"Then, you will rule it. And if you refuse, then, it will be Lagertha who will rule it."

But everyone in the room, from king to slaves, knew how wrong the assesment was; everyone knew Bjorn was a puppet to his mother, the great conqueror. And if Bjorn had not been a renowned and fearsome warrior, many would have tried to conquer Kattegat. It was only fitting for a Ragnarsson to sit in his father's place, but it was odd to realize the true power laid elsewhere.

"Then, Guthrum. Do you accept my terms?"asked Bjorn.

"I accept." Guthrum said, not without planning to dispose of Horek. He did not want his presence anywhere near him and Siggy.

"Good. Then, swear on this arm ring and the gods that you won't betray me."

"By my arm ring, by the gods," he looked at his mother and gave a cruel grin "And by my blood, I swear never to betray you."

Bjorn gave a satisfied nod. "Then it is agreed. Arrangements shall be made."

"May I leave?" Guthrum asked.

"Do as you wish."

And under Torvi's hurt eyes, Horek's severe stance and Bjorn's contempt, he walked out of the room, while his two half-brothers and his half-sister ran into the hall, only to bump into their parents who played and laughed with them, like a happy family.

And for a brief moment, Guthrum wished he was them.

* * *

The wind was favorable, gentle and the sea seemed welcoming enough not to take ships in her cold embrace. It blew North, a reminder of the season to come and Ran wasn't awake yet.

Solveig savored the wind in her red hair and the ocean's spray on her skin. She held her brother's hand and drew him to her arms in a warm embrace.

"Argh! Stop." he protested.

Solveig laughed at his outrage and at how he tried to struggled in her arms. Always a delight to annoy.

"Soon, we'll see Thorunn again." she said.

Siegfried blushed. "Yes." he mumbled.

"I cannot wait." she breathed.

And without further ado, the boat started moving on the water, as slaves and free men rowed towards this independent village, in Jarnberaland, North of Uppsala, where the weather was colder and harsher and where dwelt the gods.

Solveig turned and watched as Kattegat disappeared in sea spray, like a fading memory, like one of those we choose to forget because they grant us no joy. She discarded her memories of that dull place where so many had suffered and still suffered in spite of its prosperity; of those new colors she saw, of the smells and sounds, so rich, too rich, for a young woman who was used to peace, to woods and small villages where everyone knew their neighbor. She released her breath and turned forward; to the sea and to her land; and with a radiant smile, she whispered, as a charm of some sort:

"We're coming home."

* * *

 ** _Okay so FYI I cried when I finished this chapter (more like, this JUGGERNAUT!) because it was like... SO LONG! And I couldn't see the end of it. It is 8,500 words long or so and I am just so tired! But just know that I have written longer chapters than that for Crashing Waves, so it is not that bad. In this chapter many characters are having daddy issues and ISTG I should have titled this fic: Everything's changing and everyone's having daddy issues! Just for fun! I hope you enjoyed most of this chapter (there's at least one part many of you might not have liked) and that you're having fun reading so far, because I have SO MANY THINGS planned for Sig, Sol and Boda! This is only the first act of an - already - long story._**

 ** _Oh and for a better understanding of timelines etc... This fic is happening a two years after s4b and I changed a lot of elements, such as the daughters NOT DYING and in my next chapter Imma try and give Lagertha more sense. That will be great guys!_**


	5. 1-05: Heart-strings and vengeance

The day was ending, night was coming and, through heavy gales, the cold air of winter burst between the planks of the great hall that once belonged to a great king on the island of Saeland, seething like a snake; like one of those who bit Ragnar Lothbrok, drawing him to his end. In this hall, did she sit, Lagertha, conqueror of Jelling, Jutland, Hedeby, Denmark and all the territories surrounding the Kattegat; on her chair she was sitting, that high queen who did not bear the title but held all its power; in this dark hall, lit by torches and braziers was she sitting, the aging Lagertha, with her wrinkled face, her wrinkled hands, used by a lifetime of holding a sword, of fighting and of plunging them into ground to farm. Here she was sitting, so desperately alone and cold in spite of the heavy fur wrapped around her shoulders. Here she was sitting and here, on that high seat, she listened to snakes betokening of downfall.

The doors opened and a young woman – younger than herself – with black hair and a line of khol drawn around her blue eyes came in, wearing the finest of aprons, the finest of brooches and the most fierce hairdo. Lagertha gave a weak smile.

"Astrid." she said with tenderness.

"Are you so short on money not to have guards?" Astrid asked with an obvious concern.

Lagertha nodded, gently smiling. "No, my sweet Astrid. I am not short on money. But am I not undefeated on the battlefield? Isn't my face spared from scars? I am Lagertha. I cannot be killed."

"That is what you want to prove, Lagertha. We all know your legend and we all know how great you are, but I am worried."

"Why would you be?"

"Power attracts power, and I fear for you. People may want to take what you conquered."

"Let them try. I will fill this hall with their vain attempts." Lagertha said, her hand on the pommel of her sword.

"This hall is too empty for you. It should be filled with songs, skalds and admirers. It should be like in the old sagas, where a sovereign's hall is filled with all his court and his people. It should be the same for you, if not more."

"This hall is old, Astrid; as old as myself. No one likes the old, they all prefer what is new." A bitterness could be heard in every words. "They are all in Kattegat now, that is, if they are not in faraway lands, so new and unknown."

"You could be in Kattegat." Astrid pointed out.

"No. Not this Winter. There are too much matters that presses on this side of the sea. For now, Bjorn is taking care of business I have in Kattegat and if he cannot, then, Torvi will do what I will tell her. She loves me, she trusts me. I have heard that he is forging an alliance with prince Rognvald of Vestfold, which is very good for business and warfare. We need allies faithful to our line and we need steel to protect ourselves from other claims."

"You told him to forge the alliance." Astrid said with half a smile.

Lagertha returned a mischievous grin. "I told Torvi and she told him."

"He never listens to her. He never listens to his wife."

"He believes only he has absolute knowledge. He believes his divine blood makes him Odin." Lagertha stood up. "He is my son. And I know him. Torvi merely gave him a suggestion and now he thinks it was his idea in the first place."

"Why didn't you tell him yourself, then?"

"A son, grown, does not listen to his mother. Men are prideful creatures, Astrid."

"Aren't you more?" said Astrid teasingly.

Lagertha gave another of her smiles. "Perhaps..."

"So Rognvald will marry, then. With whom?"

"Siggy, my grand-daughter. Bjorn's first daughter. She is coming of age and such is the fate of women from royal houses." Lagertha said. "But I have heard that she went missing. That is but a setback, but it is crucial to retrieve her; for alliance and for the sake of our dynasty."

"It cannot be a son of Aslaug to become king."

Lagertha nodded. "Bjorn will establish a dynasty through my blood, with a woman by my choosing, who would have been trained by me to become a competent warrior."

"But you are queen." Astrid stepped forward and climbed up the dais. "Are you not?"

"I am. But we all die, Astrid; and one day I will be gone. I want some part of myself to remain here, forever."

Astrid cupped Lagertha's face in her hands and gently caressed the corner of her eyes; kissed her temple and wrinkles. "Do not leave me so soon, Lagertha. I could not bear an existence knowing you are gone."

"Astrid, I..."

"You love Ragnar Lothbrok. After all those years you still love him. But I am here. I can bear being only third in your heart." said Astrid gently. "I will always be there for you. Always."

"And I am grateful."

Astrid gave a quick smile and stepped back, down on the floor, while Lagertha sat back on her high seat.

"What are the news, then?" asked the queen.

"A growing revolt had been stifled in Jutland."

"Earl Tostig must be rewarded, then." whispered Lagertha to herself.

"Hedeby is good, though your hall misses your presence, the earls you placed at the head of parcels of lands are building strongholds and they seem to all be thriving, the harbors are growing in size and are being walled to the water and it seems we are attracting new merchants each weeks. It is a good year Lagertha. And your grip on your empire seems to be strong."

"Good. And you, are you happy?"

"I rule Hedeby for you, high queen. What greater happiness than this?"

Lagertha smiled. "Will you stay for the night?"

"I must return to Hedeby, alas, but if you would have me, I could stay."

Lagertha, glanced at her sword and gave a smile. "No. That is fine, I understand pressing matters await you, far from this ancient hall. Your generation tends to be drawn by the new, and I do not want to keep you from yourself. Go, I trust you to rule in Hedeby and train shield-maidens. You are my greatest accomplishment, Astrid. I trained you well."

Astrid gave a sad look, imperceptible to Lagertha and with a last look at that woman who stopped looking at her, she walked out of the hall, and closed the doors behind her.

"I trained you well." the words echoed in Lagertha's mouth and with melancholy, she recalled that day she took Astrid under her wing and decided to train that orphaned girl, brought to her by an important and wealthy man from a land far south to Hedeby, a foster father who failed to marry her.

She recalled the constant admiration of the girl, the years spent to train her, like she would have trained Gyda had she had she spirit for war. She recalled those long nights Astrid spent in her bed, those long hot nights Astrid had proven she could be more and when Lagertha had tried to get rid of Ragnar's presence in her heart; then, this fated day when he came back and all she had built collapsed; and then, the tenderness she still felt towards the girl, although she knew it would never be enough to call it love. Would she love again? It seemed her heart had turned to stone in her heart. It seemed something inside of her died with Ragnar.

And that something gone, it left place for something else; and that something else killed and waged war to take something she doubted she ever wanted.

Revenge had been her shield in the affair; she had protected herself with it, from the townsfolk accusation of usurping the crown. They seemed to no longer love or admire her and it frightened her, especially since Ragnar had died. Now legends could die; now there was nothing divine about them and now it seemed gods could die. And this had been enough to trigger a thirst for blood. In order to prove her world had not changed, she had to kill; and she killed a woman claiming she was descended from the gods herself; and nothing was divine anymore; and Aslaug died a quick death; and Lagertha had behaved in a dishonorable way and she had tried to kill that memory; and Aslaug died; and Lagertha, by the loathsome act, proved her claims to be wrong and destroyed to the very essence of what she was.

She regretted killing Aslaug; one of her dearest friends, and perhaps the only woman who ever made her want to be more than what she was, no matter how great it was. But the madness and grief that followed the news of Ragnar's death had her way with her reason and in such a state, she became but a tool for jealousy and greed; and she decided to prove her might and legend by conquering a town she chose to leave, long ago; she took arms to prove, not to the others, but to herself, that the world she grew up in was still standing.

So what Ragnar once said was true, then. Power indeed corrupts the best; and instead of raising her yet powerful and thriving land into a strong and long lasting kingdom, she did what she loathed and killed a woman who managed to build her own success, not through blood and steel, but through gold. And now she drowned in a sea of remorse. But again, had she any choice in the affair?

One way or the other, she would have had to kill the queen or one of her sons. Bjorn was Ragnar's heir; his true heir; not the offspring of a woman appeared from who-knew-where. Bjorn had been raised by Ragnar and had been trained by him. He knew of strife and he knew of modest life.

Bjorn was Ragnar's son; in every sense of the word. He must be king, for people needed stability in those changing age. Had she not seized power in place of her son and for the sake of a dynasty, an election to appoint the next king would have been held after the former's death and it would have been Ubbe, this child behind the reason she divorced an earl who would become king, that would have been elected; for he was a fine man, modeled after Ragnar and who inherited his farmer spirit. Him or Sigurd, that boy who took after his mother, from his blood, to his eyes and name, for Lagertha knew, in spite of the fact that Bjorn had stayed in Kattegat precisely to earn the people's favor, that they were keener on favoring the sons of a woman who made them rich.

It seemed that steel was no longer power, but that it was held by those who possessed gold. And in this world, there no longer seemed to have a place for Lagerthas.

"Oh, Freya," mumbled the warlord. "And Frigg," she touched her empty womb. "I can carry children no longer. No longer will I give birth, not to the living at least. It seems, oh goddesses, that my time has come. It seems, that I can bring death over life, now that my youth has passed." she looked at the ceiling, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I want to bleed. I want to feel alive again. I want purpose again, and for life to regain its former sense."

But none answered, if not seething wind and changing times. The world was shifting, wriggling and stirring; tides turned, tables turned and luck turned. And if Lagertha wasn't in Kattegat, it was precisely because she wanted to avoid what she did and the consequences on her reputation. She had never been the kind to cower, but lately, it seemed she lost sense of who she was.

The world was changing, and she was changing too. Legends died, while others grew.

* * *

Solveig grinned widely as she saw the familiar coast of her childhood. She was home. At last, she was home. The small village gained only two long-houses and the market was slightly more crowded than usual, but that was about it for changes. After more than a year away, seeing her beloved land was for her a relief. Smoke grew from chimneys and soared in the cold, immaculate winter sky. A thin coat of snow was covering the ground and from the wind and the cold of the air, a snow-fall would soon follow. A light chatter welcomed the small ship and Solveig sighed with content, recognizing some of the voices, voices that had cradled her ever since she was born. And as always, she gave another sigh of grief at the absence of her parents' voices.

Siegfried gently put his hand around her shoulder. "Hey, at least, we are home." he said with a warm affection.

"Yes." And Solveig covered his hand with hers, glad that Siegfried and herself still thought about their parents, and sad also, because Siegfried had barely any memory of them.

The ship stopped between two wooden quays and Solveig immediately jumped out of it, happy not to feel the ship swaying on water anymore, while Siegfried stayed, unloading the ship and helping Einar to tidy it up.

Familiar faces welcomed her and some embraced her; girls she knew as children who now, carried their own, old friends, old training mates and old women she learned wisdom with, old men who sang sagas to her, mothers who never forgot to show her and her brother how much they cared about them, and old friends of their parents, proud to see that Siegfried was safe and home and proud to see that Solveig had done her task well. Their children were safe and that was what mattered.

But among all the familiar faces, Solveig was looking for one particularly. She turned to a woman about her age, carrying a baby in her arms.

"Frida," said Solveig. "Where is Thorunn?"

"In the mountains." answered the woman. "You can go and see her but Borghild will wan..."

Then, suddenly, an old woman made her way through the crowd and ran to Solveig. Her face seemed older, more emaciated, more wrinkled and more stern also. But the eyes of the old woman were filled with tenderness and concern; and relief could be seen in the corners of her mouth.

"Borghild." Solveig said with joy. "I have miss..."

"Yes, yes! I know. I have missed you too. Now look at me." she took her face in her hands with such a strength that Solveig, for a brief moment, thought she was dealing with Thor. "No bruises, that's good! Your teeth? Clean. You smell, though and you will take a bath, young lady. And by all the gods and spirits, look at you, you are so skinny! My child, you must eat! How will you protect our merchants if you are not well fed? Ah – Kids, nowadays! They never eat! Too busy to raid! Now, now... Your arms looks well. No broken bones, no twists, nothing. Good. And... Siegfried! Come here!"

Siegfried froze suddenly and looked around for an escape which made the whole village laugh.

"Come, my boy!" said the old one.

And he came, slowly, like a child who knew he was going to be yelled at, all red with shame. Borghild took his face in her hands the same way she had taken Solveig's, and inspected his every features.

"My, my, my..." she exclaimed. "Look at how you have grown my boy! Your shoulders looks so broad now, you are becoming a man! But look at how skinny your cheeks are! Siegfried, you have to eat! You two will come home and I will feed you. Adhils is expecting you and some soup is awaiting your mouths. Come, now."

"No. I need Siegfried to help me, Borghild! He is my apprentice and I..." Einar suddenly stopped in fright from the look Borghild was giving him; a dark look of anger from a woman who would not allow anyone to discuss her orders.

Einar gave a nervous smile "I guess, I'll have someone else help me, then."

Borghild nodded with authority and dragged Solveig and Siegfried with her, holding their wrists with a strong grip.

The house was the same as when they left it a year ago; a comfortable half-buried house, warmed by a central hearth, with beds on the sides, covered with furs, chests and cauldrons, and weapons and other fabrics, dried flowers hanging from the walls, a cat sleeping and purring next to a crackling fire and an unfinished work on a loom, which patterns were changed. The house they grew in for most of their life was still here, still the same, so welcoming and filled with peace. The village was still here, peaceful and curse-ridden. The village that became a big family after an attack barely grew and everyone could agree that it was for the best. And like the village, the house was small and those who lived in it could agree that it was for the best. Too big a house or too big a town could lead to greed and that was not something everyone here wanted.

Borghild poured some soup into two bowls and gave them to Solveig and Siegfried; and while they ate, Borghild prepared a tub in a corner of the house and prepared hot water on the fire while she talked to her kids, asking where they have been and if the weather had been merciful.

"Njord was kind to us and we hardly suffered Ran's anger on our way to Russland." said Siegfried. "But there was a day we barely moved forward because of an absence of wind or current. So we arrived later than scheduled in Hedeby and Einar made us stay there for a few more days because he wanted this stay to be fruitful. It was a rather hot summer, there, hotter than here, that's for sure. Once, we even bathed in a river in Russland. That was fun."

"Good, good." said Borghild. "How are the people there?"

"And how are their women?" asked Adhils who just entered the room, winking to the boy.

Siegfried blushed, as usual when it came to women. "Pretty." he mumbled. "Very pretty."

"Have you met any maiden you would wish to marry?" Borghild asked while Solveig blocked any laughter in her mouth with her two hands. "Solveig stop that, that's not elegant." she rebuked her. "Siegfried, my boy, you will have to think of marrying soon; you are almost in age and I believe many maidens would take pride in being your wife."

Siegfried was redder than the reddest of fabrics and looked everywhere he could to find a place to hide. Marrying? Yes, he once thought about it, but it always brought awkwardness on him and he hardly could hide how uneasy he was with women.

Solveig looked at him and gave a mocking smile. "He wants to marry Thorunn, I am sure of that!"

"Solveig!" Siegfried yelled, abruptly standing up.

"What? Isn't it true?"

"I... I... Hbgrflbju."

"You should marry too, Solveig. A young woman like you, a shield-maiden and a pretty woman, surely you'll catch the eye of a wealthy man." said Borghild.

Every sign of a smile died on Solveig's lips and she became as red as her brother which made him laugh. Marrying? Yes, maybe, when she was a child she would have loved the idea, but now, as an adult who saw more than her original world, she loathed it. The world was too big to stay in a long-house, being the wife of a man she did not know, breeding and giving him sons. The world was too big and too interesting to stay in her little village, so perfect and so good; and she had way too many scores to settle yet, and it seems being the apprentice of Thorunn betokened of wars to come. Marrying was a little girl's dreams and although she envied those women who married good men and lived their lives peacefully, she knew she wanted none of it.

"How was Kattegat? And all those cities you have been in?" asked Adhils as Borghild was fetching some soap Siegfried bought for her.

"Those big cities were marvelous!" exclaimed Solveig. "There were people dressed in a strange way, with cloak draped around them, with brown skin or narrow eyes; people with large pieces of silk wrapped around their waists; people with strange animals with two humps and covered with thick brown fur; people of our own but who wore our clothes differently; people wearing golden helmets and others wearing the most precious of fabrics and there were animals I have never seen. This did not feel like a journey to the land of the Rus, but rather a journey throughout a world I never knew."

"There was also this men who sang, remember?" said Siegfried. "Their song was so beautiful! It looked like a wolf howling, but it was delicate and so intriguing! I'd pay a heavy price for their lutes and music instruments. I cannot wait to return there! Or even travel to their homelands. I want to trade, now I am certain of it!"

"Good." said Adhils. "A man must always know his path in life not to get lost. Keep being Einar's apprentice, my boy, and I can guarantee you'll become a good trader. Although, I still must train you as long as I have some strength left. We do not want you to be killed by thieves."

"With your teachings, he will become strong." said Solveig.

"I hope so." he gave a grin. "Now, tell me about Kattegat. I have heard so much about it I am dying to know more about it."

"That cursed town." Solveig sighed. "A large city, thriving and prosperous where everyone seeks his neighbor's death and where snakes crawl on the ground to bite you better. Kattegat is a wonder of colors, but that's all it is. As for the rest, it is nothing but a dull town, painted with blood for decades where strife is no longer for survival but rather for wealth and power. That town was despicable and I do not know why anyone would want to live there, or even sit in that chair in that cold hall where wind always sweeps into. Kattegat isn't greater than our town, quite the opposite. You are not missing anything."

Adhils sighed and stroke his beard. The world was wide and yet, it held so many disappointment.

"Enough chit-chat you two! Solveig, into the tub! For the gods' sake you stink more than your brother! Men, out! Go train or something."

Adhils gave a smile and took Siegfried with him, grabbing two wooden swords in the process. He gave a tender kiss on Borghild's forehead and left the house.

For about an hour, Solveig stayed in the warm bath, while Borghild unbraided her hair and combed it. Solveig closed her eyes and let the old woman stroke her hair, massage her scalp and hum a song. She almost fell asleep. She rubbed a cloth on her skin to get rid of filth and once clean and ridden of bad smell, she dressed up in fresh clothes she deemed too small, having grown on the journey she just came back from. She was wearing a cream short dress, a pair of pants with boots lined with fur and a purple apron adorned with modest brooches, her red hair, braided in a way locks did not fall in front of her eyes.

She gave her thanks to Borghild and left the house to send her brother back in – and almost laughed at Siegfried's apparent fear of facing Borghild. Adhils looked at her and gave a proud smile.

"You really turned into a fine woman. Are you up to a little training session?" he asked.

Solveig returned the smile. "No, thank you. I have business to take care of into the woods."

"Thorunn?"

"Yes."

"Then bring her this" he said giving her a package containing clothes, bread and honey. "From Borghild and I."

"Thank you." said Solveig.

"Tell her she is welcome to stay in our house whenever she wants."

"That will be done. I'll see you tonight."

"Take your time." said Adhils. "I know how much you like being with her."

Solveig gave a weak smile and headed towards the woods surrounding the villages, up to the mountains where Thorunn's cabin was. Tied to her belt, a sword; those who dwelt into the woods still frightened her and each time she crossed the path of one, she saw the face of one of those monsters who killed her parents and raped her mother. She was ashamed to be afraid of such men, but in the matter, she had not been given any choice. Fear was fear and even the bravest knew it. Even Thorunn was familiar with its paralyzing effects. How would she have got a scar otherwise?

The more she walked into the woods, the more snow there was; white snow, as pure as the mind of a newborn lamb, white like Balder's light. Each of her footstep were shushed into the powder snow and she heard it gently crack under her feet. It was calm there, peaceful. It was like walking into a cloud and the silenced forest of Winter was a sweet lullaby for comfort. Yet, Solveig's hand remained on the pommel of her sword.

After what seemed an eternity walking, she finally saw smoke escape from the chimneys of two long-houses and a cabin nearby. Thorunn's camp. It did not change much in a year; the only difference was the absence of tents and the second long house. From this, Thorunn deduced many more berserkers came to Thorunn, appealed by the reputation she managed to build herself. Solveig wondered if Thorunn trained and became stronger. She wondered if she was strong enough to defeat an army of her own.

As she walked towards Thorunn's cabin, men looked at her; some waved at her, others smiled and other gave her a defiant stare, in which she thought she saw arousal and thirst for blood or a girl's body. Solveig swallowed her bile and, her heart thumping against her ribs, tried as much as she could to overcome the terror that shook her. She knocked on the cabin's door and entered.

Thorunn was there, slightly more muscular than before, sharpening her sword, her long hair braided loosely, wearing a warm dress made of wool and wrapped in a fur cloak. Her long scar was still there, but it was slightly less red than she remembered. As Solveig entered, Thorunn rose her head and gave a warm smile.

"You returned." she said."I am glad you came back alive."

"You trained me well."

"You were a good student." Thorunn put her sword away and took a stool she placed beside her. "Come and sit. It is cold near the door."

Solveig shivered and sat on the stool and placed her hands above the hearth to warm herself up. Winter was harsh up there. Thorunn handed her some soup Solveig ate, shivering with pleasure. It was her second soup of the day but she felt she could drink more.

"You have more men." said Solveig.

"They keep coming. I trained with a few of them and I can tell you they are good. Probably the best warriors I have seen. I have learned much with them and they seem to respect me as I am, which pleases me."

"They scare me."

"They will not do anything to you or the village. I once caught one of them trying to force himself on a woman in the village. Now his dick is hanging from a tree. Men must learn respect, especially those, and they must learn it the hard way." maybe was it because of the fire, but for a brief moment, her eyes turned red. "Fortunately those cases are few and many understood what I wanted from them to stay. It is a small price, really, but for most of them that is barely anything and they tend to behave with respect."

"And still, they scare me."

"One day, you will discard fear."

"The one that does not fear anything would be a fool." said Solveig. "The one that does not fear is dead. It is fear that kept us mortals alive since the dawn of times and even the gods know it."

"You speak wisely." noted Thorunn.

"Borghild taught me well too."

"Borghild is a wise woman. I should perhaps listen to her more."

Solveig chuckled and nodded.

"Tell me, now, did you do what I asked you to?" asked Thorunn.

Solveig's smile disappeared and a bitter resentment took love's place in her heart; resentment towards Thorunn for all the secrets she hid from her and that other life she once lived and where Solveig did not have her place in. Jealousy followed; jealousy to know that Thorunn cared more about a faceless girl than her. And finally, a cold anger; anger to know that Thorunn did not judge it wise or considerate to tell her she had a daughter and hid her plans and intentions to her. And disappointment; disappointment to know that Thorunn, a woman she had grown to admire, abandoned a child to an uncertain life.

"Yes." said Solveig with a cold tone.

"And?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a daughter? Why didn't you tell me you abandoned her?" asked Solveig with a cold anger. "Why didn't you tell me your intentions? Why do you keep so many secrets from me? What about your scar, huh? And what about Bjorn Ironside? What about you and all your secrets? Did you deem me unworthy of your story? Did you deem me not important enough to trust me with your burden? I am your apprentice! I lived with you and fought with you and you told me nothing? Why do I feel like I am not important to you? Do you even care?"

"Solveig..." Thorunn begged, pained by the words and her actions.

"No!" yelled Solveig, violently standing up. "No more lies! No more secrets! No more manipulations! I am not your pawn! I am not some object to be placed on a Hnefatafl board! No more secrets, you hear me?! I am done being played with! Have you any idea of what it was to be there, where you once lived? Do you have any idea of the shock to realize one's most admired figure was not who they claimed to be? No! You don't know! Do not, ever play with my loyalty again!" Solveig's eyes filled with tears and she started sobbing uncontrollably.

Thorunn stood up and gently put her hand on Solveig's arms, but she shrugged it off. Thorunn gave a sad sigh and sat back.

"Sit down. I'll tell you everything."

Reluctantly, Solveig complied and sniffled. She wiped off her tears and looked at Thorunn with hurt eyes.

"I am sorry." said Thorunn, lowering her eyes. "It is not a good story. I was afraid you might see me as a coward or a slave."

"Why would I? You saved my life!" seethed Solveig.

Thorunn gave a weak laugh and sighed. "I was once a slave in Ragnar Lothbrok's household. His son and I fell in love and then, I have been freed by queen Aslaug. Then, I decided to train to become a shield-maiden, like the famous Lagertha, and I succeeded. I went on my first raid, pregnant. I won a battle but was wounded in the other... I..." she closed her eyes and stopped to suppress the shame and self-loathing she still felt deep inside her heart. "I got my scar from there, and drifted for several days between life and death. And I was no longer the same after. Bjorn wanted me to carry children, and I wanted to be worthy of him, and to earn Kattegat's respect."

Solveig scoffed. "That town can choke."

"Yes. I wanted many things. I yearned to be respected and admired. I yearned to be like Lagertha. I yearned to be worthy of the son of a king. But I was a slave once, and I was wounded. So much pressure... it was all a burden I inflicted upon myself, and in the end, a mere crack on my skin, and it all crushed me. I no longer wanted children; I no longer deemed myself worthy of Bjorn; I no longer wanted to see Lagertha and her perfect face; I no longer wanted to suffer the king's disapproving eyes upon a slave, as worthless as a dog; I no longer wanted to see Aslaug who freed me to let me live my dreams, not to feel her disappointment and cover her with further shame; I no longer wanted to see my face in a mirror; and I no longer wanted my daughter to be raised by a failure. My daughter shall be greater than myself and honor her father. I wanted her father to take pride in her. I do not wanted him to see myself in her. I just wanted to disappear. So I left."

Solveig gave a sad sigh. How to tell someone that they failed once more?

"So Siggy is your daughter." said Solveig.

"Yes." said Thorunn "I abandoned her and handed her to Aslaug, waiting for her father to come back to raise her. Raised in the hall of a king, my daughter would have been better. That is a regret which pains me everyday. And when I saw you, I saw my Siggy, and I no longer wanted to run away. By saving your life, I chose to be saved by yourself." Thorunn gently took Solveig's hands in hers and Solveig gave a small smile. "Now, tell me, did you succeed in gathering informations about her?"

Solveig's smile faded away. "Yes. But I must tell you that you failed even by leaving."

"What do you mean?" Thorunn frowned.

"That Bjorn sees you in herself and that he never cared for her. Siggy is not a princess, back there, she is a pariah and a pawn in a game larger than herself."

"She is alive, then?" Thorunn asked with relief.

"Yes. She is. But she disappeared who-knows-where and Bjorn is furious, because he intends on handing her in marriage to Rognvald of Vestfold, apparently against her will, to secure an alliance. And according to many young men I talked with in that cursed town of Kattegat, she became a fierce shield-maiden."

"Bjorn would do that?" Thorunn asked in disbelief. "She is his daughter, of course, and a princess but I thought he treated her well."

"You know he abandoned her. I saw your face when Einar told you so a year ago. I saw the disappointment; the betrayal." said Solveig with bitterness. "Don't deny you are angry."

Thorunn closed her eyes and when she re-opened them, they took the color of blood; of wrath and vengeance. Anger suited her well; like blood suited an ax; or pieces of guts and severed limbs suited a battlefield.

"I know how I feel, Solveig. And you are right; I am angry; no, worse that than. I want revenge for my wounded pride, my wounded honor, my robbed respect, my betrayed daughter and my severed heart. For so long I have kept on loving him and trusting him and now I learn that he betrayed me? Not only he made me have this child but I had to stay to care for her while he did what he pleased? I was still a slave to him. I will forever remain his slave. Bjorn Ironside, traitor!" seethed Thorunn. "And now he wants to get rid of our daughter for his own gain?! BJORN!" she violently threw a table through the cabin and, as her heart hammered in her chest, she panted and shook with a mad ire.

"If you must take arms against him, be warned. He is a king now, his mother rules, but he is a king."

"Lagertha became queen?" asked Thorunn with confusion. "But how?"

"She shot queen Aslaug in the back some times ago, and she placed Bjorn on the throne with no elections. But as Torvi told me, she is the one to rule."

"Torvi?"

"His companion. They had children together, less expendable than your daughter, for Torvi is faithful to Lagertha – perhaps to excess – and that the high queen approves of her. Not to mention the fact that Torvi is a shield-maiden and seems to be well protected. I do not know if Bjorn loves her, but he seems to like the fact that she is of noble birth."

Tears began to drip from Thorunn's eyes. "He never married her."

"No."

Thorunn fell on the ground and began to sob. She was right. All along, she had been right. She was nothing. She was a slave and slave-freer died. Bjorn was better off without her. She was nothing. She wasn't good enough for Lagertha to notice her, she wasn't good enough for Bjorn to marry her, she wasn't good enough for herself. She had never been enough, even to herself. She was nothing and she should have died on the battlefield. Bjorn decided to have Torvi as a companion even if he did not love her, surely, Torvi was a hundred times better than Thorunn; and from this knowledge, Thorunn felt like she was burned at a stake. She was nothing. She was no one.

"Thorunn?" asked Solveig with concern.

"A slave is still a slave after all. A slave to one's heart and a slave to oneself."

"A slave has become a legend and a warlord." Solveig said. "And such slave, I admire."

Thorunn gave a weak smile. "Thank you."

"And such a slave does not cower behind a crossbow. Your scar is here to prove it. You were a slave once, now you are Hel's daughter."

"Who knew my little apprentice could teach me so much about myself." she embraced Solveig and closed her eyes as a wide warm smile bloomed on her lips.

"In Kattegat, you were no one. But Kattegat is shit. The people there are shit and you are worth more than them. Here, you are the mighty Thorunn and the queen of berserkers. Here, Thorunn, this is not a shitty place and they never deserved you." claimed Solveig.

"Perhaps... But now, I had a debt to repay there. A debt to the woman who freed me, a debt to my daughter and a debt to myself. I will spread my wrath upon them, but first, I need my Siggy by my side. I want to know her before I march towards bloodshed."

"Aslaug never cared for your daughter." mentioned Solveig. "A woman named Helga told me so."

"For Bjorn to abandon her, then she must have taken care of her until his return. It is Bjorn who betrayed her, not Aslaug. She freed me, even if it was a mistake from her part. I won't blame a woman with a lot on her hands, with servants and a disabled boy for a man's treachery. Siggy is alive, that is what matters, but so long as Bjorn thinks he can do whatever he pleases with her, I will not be satisfied. No, I must avenge her and myself. But on Bjorn and Lagertha only."

"I thought you admired her."

"Not since you told me she shot a defenseless woman in the back. Besides, there are other women to admire and I want peace with myself." she glanced at her necklace. "And I need to repay a debt."

"So? What do you plan to do?"

"Retrieve my daughter, assemble an army and destroy Bjorn Ironside." growled Thorunn.

"Sounds like a plan... What do you need me to do?"

She grinned. "I want you to find Siggy and bring her to me. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Provided you trust me for the rest of your plan."

"I trust you more than anyone. And if you please, I would like you to begin looking for her at the end of Winter."

"It will be done."

"Good." Thorunn then went to fetch blankets and furs. "Now, night has fallen and I am afraid you will have to sleep here. I hope Borghild won't mind." she muttered as she made two beds.

Solveig shrugged. "Adhils knows. He would have told her."

"The man knows his women, I see. You know, sometimes, I envy them. I wish I had someone to wait for me home."

"In the meantime, it is you who are waiting for someone, home."

"I know. It pleases me as well."

Solveig changed clothes and slipped into her bed. "I am glad you are here."

Thorunn slipped into her own. "I am glad I am here."

Solveig yawned and then, silence fell as she started to doze off to the land of dreams, resting from a year away from home, returned, at last.

And in the silence, under layers of fur and wools, as men outside were humming winter songs and fire crackled while wolves howled in the distance, Thorunn thought. She thought of her revenge and of her daughter, her precious Siggy. What did she look like? Was she happy? Was she safe? Did she eat well? Was she warm? Was she angry? In the silence, no answer came, but regrets; and in those regrets, Thorunn drowned, dwelling in bitterness and resent for what seemed like an eternity; enough to consume her.

She should have stayed. She should have stayed and leaving was a mistake. Had she stayed, Bjorn wouldn't have had children with Torvi, they would have been a happy family and Siggy could have been trained by Lagertha and raised by Aslaug while she trained and fought beside Bjorn. Had she stayed, perhaps Aslaug would have taught her to accept herself and even to love what she was the way she was. Had she stayed, she would have glared at a weakening Ragnar and savored his looks of contempt for a lesser born woman die as his dignity vanished. Had she stayed, all things would have been better; and especially for her sweet daughter.

But she left; for selfish or selfless reasons, this, only the gods could tell, and although they dwelt into the wilderness, none answered her yet. She left and Bjorn decided a higher born woman was more fit to be his companion than a former-slave and failed shield-maiden his wife. Had she been free, had she not been put into slavery because of circumstances, all would have been different.

And now Aslaug was dead, killed by a woman Thorunn once admired, and who took a throne by force and blood; Siggy was who-knew-where and Bjorn was a puppet king for a cursed empire. Aslaug was dead and with her death, a debt arose; Aslaug freed her, in a way, Thorunn was indebted to her. Thorunn must avenge her; it was a matter of honor.

And as sleep came, her last thoughts, as always, went to Bjorn the way she knew him; handsome, kind, noble and loyal. Her Bjorn, her prince, and the man she so despised; her husband, the one that abandoned their daughter. She hoped he was miserable. And yet, she loved him.

* * *

Bjorn looked at the door in front of him; that old door his father opened so many times to seek wisdom from an old disfigured seer, cursed and bound to deliver the gods' words to puny humans. And like his father, Bjorn came here seeking relief; relief from his companion, Torvi, who insisted yet again to be his wife and couldn't spare any praises towards his own mother, the great Lagertha, whose shadow was almost as crushing as his father's; relief from his two sons who would just not leave him alone; relief from concern for Siggy, who was somewhere where he couldn't use her for the kingdom's sake; relief from all of his worries about alliances with Norse kings; and relief from the pressure of being on a throne he never truly wanted but sought now to defend against his own brothers, men he once played with and who he still cared for dearly.

His thoughts drifted once again to Torvi and her pleas, she repeated a few minutes ago. Torvi wanted the status of a wife; not only for her honor and position as a noblewoman, but also for their sons, to see them legitimized and rule Kattegat, one day. Torvi was a woman with pride, a wounded woman, discarded many times, with too many dead husbands for her age. Bjorn considered her demands and thought them just, but for a reason he dreaded to name, he just couldn't resolve to accept them.

And yet, Torvi was his mother's right-hand, and he knew his father would have chosen such a woman to be his wife. He knew his parents would have approved of such a noble marriage, but still, in his heart, a presence never left; so bitter and yet tender.

That presence, her name was Thorunn. His beautiful first wife, his first love and perhaps the most beautiful and bravest woman he had ever laid with. When she was still in Kattegat, he would have impaled his head rather than think of laying with another woman.

With Torvi, it was different. She was more demanding and yet less than Thorunn. She was his mother's pawn in her own game and Bjorn was wary of the power Lagertha had on his throne, not that he wanted it anyway. Not to mention she killed his brothers' mother, which he thought had been a foolish act, too despicable for his mother to whom he owed his eternal loyalty. Torvi had been modeled after Lagertha's image and possessed Aslaug's entitlement and noble behavior. She was what Ragnar would have wanted for him; not a freed slave.

And yet, Thorunn was still there, in his heart; and Bjorn felt shame she left; shame she deemed him not enough for her; anger she betrayed him; anger she left him to take care of a daughter he would have wished for her to take care of; he felt hurt every time he glanced at her and was reminded of Thorunn and all the reasons she left; he felt hurt to know that Thorunn did not love him enough to stay, didn't trust him enough to know how deeply he loved her; and hated Siggy, for she was a reminder of his broken heart and a bitter memory of a lost pride.

Bjorn gave a long sigh and entered the dark room. The seer was there, in the shadows, giggling.

"I knew you would come." he said with a rattled voice.

"That is because I was outside."

"Perhaps... Or perhaps not..." the seer twisted a bone in his hands. "I see many things trouble you, Bjorn Ironside. And I see many turmoils."

"Then, your sight is accurate. I have indeed come here with many questions."

"Ask, then."

"Who was that girl who came here, days ago and asked for my daughter? Where is Siggy and will she ever marry Rognvald? Will Torvi stop asking me to marry her? Where is Thorunn?"

The seer laughed; a bitter laugh with no joy. "Again, Bjorn Ironside, you ask where your wife is."

"Answer, oh, wise one. Answer to your king."

"We all know, Bjorn Ragnarsson, that you are no king here."

"Then, will I be king? What do you foresee for me and my line? What will become of Kattegat?"

"Many of your questions have the same answer. Many are linked, Ironside."

"Then, tell me."

"Tell, tell, tell. That is all you want! I, for one, is tired of playing the game of the gods. I am tired of living and tired of having my voice bound to your every desires. You seek knowledge, but I can tell you only through a veil and the future will unfold the second the Norns deem it fit. No matter if I speak, you will only have your answer the fated day it will come."

"Then, tell me what you know. And once this done, you will be freed of my presence."

The seer gave a long rale and with a husky voice, started to speak: "The maiden with fire in the hair is bound to obey a she-wolf, bear-slayer in dark and misty mountains, while beasts comes to them, drawn by fame and by blood. The she-wolf will make you king, or she will devour you, her choices are not yet clear, and the maiden will either kill you, or leave Kattegat in its ashy ground. I see the she-wolf glare at you, sheltering a grown pup, which fangs are sharp and who is protecting a young and fair maiden herself. I see them two march north and I see flames devouring what you wish was yours; and I see a chest ripped apart by four boars. I see a gilded woman made of marble shatter while an iron bear sits under a tree which branches reach the sky. And I see that the bear is bound to the tree by golden chains. That is what I can tell you."

"And Siggy?" asked Bjorn with a cold anger. "Where is she?"

"I see her, beyond a wide wide sea... I see her, far away from her roots, as far as she can with people that do not look like us. I see ships and I see blood. I see your wolf of a daughter growing into a shadow more imposing and yet imperceptible than your own mother."

"That is not what I asked you." said Bjorn.

"I know..." the seer gave a mysterious laugh. "She is with your brothers, the youngest of the Volsungs."

"In Northumbria?" Bjorn asked, almost shaking with anger.

The seer laughed. "Yes. Building her fame away from Kattegat."

Bjorn nodded and took the seer's hand to lick it. He stood up and was about to leave the house when the seer spoke again.

"Remember my words, Bjorn Ironside. That is perhaps the last of my prophecies. When wolves will howl in Kattegat and royal blood fertilize the ground, I will be gone."

And with this prediction delivered, he burst into a delirious laughter that frightened Bjorn to the point cold shivers ran down his spine.

Shaken, the king returned to the open and cold air of Kattegat, no longer locked in a closed room where everything smelled and where smoke stifled the senses. He gave a few breathes before he headed towards the quays and sat on a ship, gazing to the horizon; the uncertain horizon.

What to do next? Horek and Guthrum were gone to Northumbria and there was no way to reach to them with Winter here. He would have to wait for Spring to set sail to Northumbria and retrieve his daughter and marry her to Rognvald. The wedding would be delayed, but so long as the agreement was fulfilled, there was a way to kill Aelle and conquer England for his father. Vestfold would not appreciate the delay, but with the help of his mother's fame, this could be arranged.

Bjorn enraged. Siggy escaped and she succeeded. Once she was back in his hall, he would have her watched day and nights; and he would tie her to a bed if needed, but she would stay. Her mother was already gone. The daughter shall not share this fate.

* * *

Horek and Guthrum made their way across the camp, in the damp lands of Northumbria, followed by the men they brought with them and who, after weeks at sea, were happy to feel steady ground again. They entered in the main tent where Sigurd and Ivar were arguing over petty things, while Angrboda watched, frowning with disapproval. As she saw Guthrum enter, her heart skipped a beat and Sigurd blanched.

Ivar grinned. "Why, Horek and Guthrum. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Guthrum snarled. "We are here to help you, on behalf of Bjorn Ironside. We came with many ships to place ourselves under your command, my princes."

"That is generous of him." said Ivar coldly. "Mount your tents then be back here. Sigurd and I will explain to you what our plans are."

Horek nodded and walked out of the tent to give his orders. Guthrum looked at Angrboda and took her by the arms which made Sigurd and Ivar unsheathe their swords.

"He won't hurt me." Angrboda said.

But judging by the worry in their eyes Ivar and Sigurd doubted it.

"Where is she?" grunted Guthrum.

"In the medical tent. She is being tended to by Gye, Horek's sister."

"I can't wait for Gye to kill him, then. He has been sent there to spy for Bjorn. I don't like this."

"Neither do I." seethed Angrboda. "If he finds her, he will return her to Bjorn."

Guthrum released her and looked at Sigurd. "If she is hurt, I swear..."

"She is fine." growled Angrboda.

Guthrum looked at her with anger and nodded. "Keep Horek distracted." he said to the youngest of Ragnar's sons. "If he finds her, bye bye Siggy."

With those words, he walked out of the tent and headed with angry strides towards the healing tent. When he entered, Siggy was there, scarred, but so beautiful. And suddenly Guthrum felt happy. Siggy was still Siggy; the woman who hated Bjorn and Ragnar's blood. And her surprised eyes when she looked at him were for him the most beautiful of scene. In her eyes, there was love and devotion and Guthrum loved her for this. He loved her in spite of her foul blood.

"Guthrum? Wha..."

Guthrum did not let her finish. He rushed towards her and kissed her urgently and most passionately. He took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the strength he could. After a moment, he released her and looked at her beautiful face, all flushed, all red, as she panted. He loved when she was like this; so weak for his kisses.

Siggy gave a small smile. "Must you always be so violent?"

"Only when I know how fierce the woman."

Siggy gave a sigh and shook her head. "Guthrum, what are you doing here?" asked Siggy, puzzled.

"Yes, Guthrum," said Gye. "What are you doing here?"

"I came on Bjorn's behalf to join your ranks. Horek is here too; a spy for Bjorn."

"Horek?" growled Gye with a cold anger.

"Yes."

"A spy for Bjorn?" grunted Siggy.

"Yes."

"Excuse me, but I need to vomit." declared Gye before she left.

Siggy gave a smile at Gye's words. Then, her eyes went on Guthrum again, who sat beside her. "If Horek is here, then, he will see me and return me to Kattegat to be thrown to hounds. This shall not happen. I will never marry a man that I don't love. On my life, if I am returned, my vengeance will be as devastating as Ragnarök, this, I swear! Horek is here, I cannot change it. Killing him would fatally lead to the failure of Sigurd's endeavor and I do not want that. Horek is here. Fine, I'll deal with it. But he must, by all means, never see me!"

* * *

 ** _HEY FOLKS! So there wasn't a lot of Sig and Boda in this chapter but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! What did you think of it?_**


	6. 1-06: Sons and Daughters

Strong cold gales whipped the slopes of Kattegat, blowing through the stifling streets of the city to the hall amidst all of it and the extension Lagertha had decided to build to show that Kattegat was the core of the kingdoms of Denmark and Sweden. Only a few kingdoms still resisted to Kattegat's influence aside from the north of Sweden, the kingdom of Upsal and king Adhils and all the petty kings of Norway, not that those kinglet and sea lords mattered anyway. The great kingdom of Denmark was nobler, much more ancient and full of a golden glory. It was there, in Seeland, in the middle of the Kattegat sea that stood the ancestral hall of kings, burned many times, rebuild and burned again. It was there that stood the stronghold of Denmark.

Now the core of the kingdom had moved and it was closer to enemies that before and parcels by parcels the armies of Kattegat conquered the surrounding kingdoms and built walls to protect themselves. King Horik once sat in Seeland. His sons would have sat there had they not died and the hall had burned long ago.

Everything changed in Denmark and the tumulus of the kings of old were but small bumps on the earth. Everything changed, ephemeral, nothing remained but embellished tales.

The wind blew all, from ashes to wood to ships. The wind swept off the past to make place for things anew and a future to settle. The wind was like time: merciless.

Bjorn was sitting with his two elder sons and his child daughter around a small table set behind the public space of the great hall. He had moved back the thrones where they once stood before Aslaug's reign, just as if he was still a boy small enough to sit on his father's lap. Melancholy drove him, but also a will to be greater than his father, hence his project to build a taller, greater hall than this one. He would keep it though, just a reminder of old times, of Gyda and Thorunn; a reminder of what his father sacrificed for greatness.

Just as his incredible mother, and just as his legendary father, Bjorn was born for greatness.

"I went to the seer's house today." said Torvi, clean and almost divine dressed in a cream dress, her hair braided around her head like a crown of some sort, her ears and neck adorned with jewelry. "He told me something I think will please you." she carefully said, weighing her words, eating slowly as elegantly as possible, just as she often saw Aslaug do when she was still alive.

Bjorn grunted and almost smacked the table with his fists, still angered with the seer and his old prophecy. "What of it?"

Torvi kept her cool and calmly looked at him. She had been abused by a husband once, she could be frightened no longer. "It is about your sons."

Bjorn's face suddenly grew calmer, more tender even. "What of them?"

Torvi ate another piece of lamb and chewed it slowly. "I went to him for news of my son, Guthrum. The seer spoke in riddle but I understood what he was saying and I know that Guthrum is well. The seer told me that his name would reach centuries. I was very much pleased." she said.

Bjorn almost gave a cruel laugh. "Guthrum is not my son."

Torvi's eyes grew dark and a red anger colored her face. "He is! You took me in your bed and under your hall! I may be but a second wife, a mere concubine, but Guthrum is my son! You took him under your hall too by taking me! He is your responsibility just as he is mine! Never forget what your mother said about him when she finally gave him back to me after you refused I took him with me! Never forget that you tore me away from my son for years. Lagertha said when she gave him back to me that he was your son now."

Bjorn threw his fork and knife away, almost frightening his other daughter while his sons were playing with the bones of the lamb. "Is that what it was all about?" he nearly roared. "Were you so eager to tell me he is my step-son, to remind me of my mother and her stifling, or were you just jealous of my first wife! Were you so keen on belittling me in front of my children tonight?"

Torvi gave a bitter laugh. "No. But you did not let me finish."

Bjorn rolled his eyes, just like his father once did. "Finish then."

Torvi gave a smile. "The seer told me of Erik and Refil in such a manner I was led to believe that our sons will be great kings."

Refil left the bone he was playing with and looked at his mother with excitement while Erik carefully stared at his father, looking in his old eyes any sign of anger. Torvi gave the youngest of the two a gentle smile and wiped off a piece of mashed carrot from his face.

"What did he say?" asked Bjorn as his daughter played with a knife on the table.

Torvi ruffled Refil's curly blond hair and gave Bjorn a scornful look before she sipped a bit of mead. "The seer's words are unclear most of the time. What he said to me was that one of my son will carve his name in the trunk of a tree taller than Yggdrasil across a troubled sea, he told me that the other will be crowned with seaweed and rule over Aegir's realm and that another like him will be crowned with gold and set two tall trees deep into the ground whose roots will be made of gold and whose leaves will reach a silver sky. My sons will be great men. Just as great as their forefathers."

Bjorn looked pleased with the news and looked at his sons with pride. At eight, Erik was already tall and wise and Bjorn had never been prouder, Refil, at seven was still a child and he cared more about playing and pretending he was a viking than learning how to rule. He often went by the sea and marveled at the constant stream of ships coming in and sailing away. Bjorn was proud of his sons, truly. He was proud that their future would be so bright.

He still didn't know where he stood in all that though. He longed to be a king and he longed to raid. He had a foot set on land, and another set in the water. As soon as power would be secured in his hand, Bjorn would set up a new raid and be a viking again. He promised it to himself.

"And me?" asked the daughter. "My brothers have everything and they are kings, but me? What am I?"

Torvi gave the girl a gentle smile. "You will marry a rich prince and you will give him sons to be proud of. You will grow up wise and beautiful and you will be spoken of all across the known world. Your sheets will be made of silk and you will be dressed in gold."

"Did the seer see that?" asked the girl.

Torvi gave a sad sigh. "No. He did not speak of you. That is merely the fate of women. It is always the same." she gave Bjorn a look of contempt. "It will always be the same." her voice was bitter and raging.

"I don't want to marry." said the girl. "I want to be like grandma! I want to be like Siggy! I want to be with Siggy!" she ordered.

Bjorn's face grew dark and full of ire. Erik quickly took Refil by the hand and they both ran to play as far as possible from Bjorn, leaving their sister there, amidst their angered parents.

"You do not want to be like Siggy." told her mother. "She is ill mannered, unrefined and has no sense of honor. You will not be like her."

"You will marry one day and make your people proud, do you hear?" said Bjorn, hardly calm. "You will grow up a princess as you ought to be and you shall never unsheathe a sword."

"I don't care." said the girl, crying. "I want to be like Siggy! Siggy is beautiful and she gave me a knife to play with! Siggy is my friend."

Bjorn violently stood up and exited the room with loud angry strides. He slammed the door behind him and Erik shielded his brother from his father's wrath. The daughter cried at the table, not understanding why they were all so angry. Siggy was also angry, but she was also her friend and once played with her. Siggy hated her, but she had never shown cruelty.

Torvi bent over to her daughter and wiped off tears from her hazel eyes and red cheeks. "If you want to be queen and remain a queen, never anger a man." she advised. "And I do not want you to get near Siggy. She is dangerous and her influence would but compromise your future. Do you understand."

The girl kept sobbing five year old tears. "But I wanted to be a king. I wanted to be a Valkyrie." she whined.

"Gyda." said Torvi with a sigh. "My sweet daughter, let me tell you something that you shall remember all your life: women are not free. There will be chains around your neck all of your life and men will pull over those until you fall and bleed." her face grew sad and bitter. "Women are not free. They will never be."

That said, Torvi stood up and left the room for the thralls to clean the table and put the children back to bed. Women were not free, Torvi knew from experience. Even as a shieldmaiden, under the protection of the high queen, Torvi still lived under the rule of a man. She deemed she had had enough husbands in her live. If Bjorn divorced her, as she feared, she swore never to marry again, to take back her dowry, her father's lands through her bow and arrows and to finally be free like Lagertha had been in Hedeby. She would take her first son and he would inherit her lands and finally, Torvi will be a slave of men no longer.

It was better to be a free woman than a queen.

* * *

Summer was warm in Northumbria. It was a fruitful and prosperous land, perfect to farm and perfect to plunder with its slow fat inexperienced warriors. When they were once a people of raiders and conquerors, they were now peasants just as weak as the Britons who dwelt there before them and later retreated towards the ends of the island to hide behind mountains and an ancient wall. No one heard of them. They became ghosts coming out of the mist to curse the raiders, to cast spells on them with their old gods, their strange blue bearings and the power of a multitude who had dwelt on the island since it thrust out of the sea.

Time was ever changing. Now it seemed that the masters of the island would change and those bearing the ropes of power would soon fall for other conquerors to rise. It was the fate of the island; a perpetual conquest.

The regular raids thrown against the Northumbrian towns had been just as fruitful in putting fear back into Saxon minds. Once they feared the name of Ragnar Lothbrok and bells rang for years with fear, now they rang for his sons and the plunder they inflicted upon the country, once again. The old ones spoke tired of these old times they feared the name of a man and lived in anguish, the others who had not known this age of fear and who had been raised in time of peace now understood fear for the first time. It felt a repetition of events that would never stop. The old ones had used all their fears now, now they just accepted fatality. Northumbria was once again threatened by Northmen, just like they were decades ago.

Sometimes, the sons of Ragnar threw several raids at a time, often at night, often when the Saxons prayed. Siggy led her men at night and hid during the day. It felt as though she was back in the skin of a wolf. The raids were quick and full with death and terror, with wails and tears and suffering, and each of them made Siggy feel like a dishonorable woman. There was no glory raiding, more fighting in a shieldwall during a real battle.

Siggy roamed the camp that day, trying to avoid Horek's eyes, while Angrboda was tending Ivar's legs. Gye was walking with her and Guthrum followed.

"I cannot help thinking about what if he found me." she said.

Gye gave a groan. "Then he would take you to Bjorn Ironsides and you will abide by his law and that of Kattegat. You will become a princess and nothing else."

Siggy looked at her with angry eyes. "I do not want to be nothing else. I want to be free."

Gye shrugged. "Your freedom doesn't concern me. I am merely following you because I know I will kill Horek if I ever see his toad face. His whore of a mother has already stripped my mother of my father's fortune and I know he will kill me to inherit all. I know he believes he has power over me as my kinsman and I know he would marry me for less than even a chicken to some brute who could abuse me all he wants. Horek will never hesitate if it meant I weren't free anymore. He would hesitate even less if it could bring him wealth in the process."

Siggy scoffed. "Your freedom doesn't concern me either. He can marry you all you want, you can always crawl away digging deep into your husband's flesh. You can always kill him."

"You can always kill Horek." suggested Guthrum coldly. "It will not be the first time a sister turned on her brother, nor the first a kinsman would kill his."

Gye turned to him with angry eyes, shocked that he dared suggest such a thing. "I will never murder. I know what happens to the sister in those stories. She is killed."

"She is killed because men are afraid of women of power. It happened with Alfhildr and it happened with Brynhildr." grimly said Siggy. "Women are not allowed crowns."

Guthrum threw an apple away. "Siggy." he purred as he wrapped his hands around her shoulders and breathed in her ear. "I promise you will always be a queen to me. I promise you every crown. I promise, my sweet, sweet raging thing that I will never part from you. My angry love." he slowly kissed her neck and Siggy almost moaned against his groans.

Siggy giggled. "In this land it feels like your promise could be true. Give me lands to rule and I will make a great warlord. After all, many great queens dwelt there long ago, like that woman they speak of, Kwenthrith, and the other one, Boudicca."

"You have heard their stories?" asked Gye.

Siggy shrugged. "I overheard them when I was young and wandering by the harbor of Kattegat. It made me dream." Siggy shrugged. "Not as great stories as ours though. I much prefer those about mighty Valkyries and draugrs."

"Still, Horek is a threat." Guthrum said. "So long as he is here, no one is safe. It is like having one of Bjorn's eyes look at you."

"Even if he is here, he couldn't possibly return to Kattegat to inform his master, no?" asked Gye.

Guthrum nodded. "No." he said. "Even if it is Winter, he would still walk till he whispered news that Siggy is here in Bjorn's here. Horek mustn't know she is here."

"Why did he even come?" groaned Gye.

"He is a spy." said Guthrum. "He will do what spies do and observe for Bjorn. Officially, we are here to feed the ranks of the great army, unoficially, we are here to keep the sons of Aslaug from growing more important than the son of Lagertha."

Siggy scoffed. "Good luck with that. Ubbe and Hvitserk are already conquering large parcels of land south of England."

Sigurd came out from behind a tree, whistling a song he had been working on for a week. "No." he said with a joyless grin. "Ubbe and Hvitserk are but a distraction."

Gye gave a scandalized look. "My lord, that is a private information."

Sigurd shrugged. "Everyone knows that. I keep no secret from my allies, besides, I have Ivar to punish those who do not abide by our laws. He can be quite creative."

"So you're done being pissed at him?" sassed Siggy.

Sigurd's face grew dark. "Do not assume I forgave him for my mother's absence and her lack of love. I still resent him dearly. I merely pointed out that he can be a good asset in a war."

"You are growing it seems." said Guthrum coldly. "That is quite new."

Sigurd's eyes grew darker and it seemed the serpent in his eye was ready to bite. "I am the son of a king, the heir to a divine line. I was born for greatness such has predicted she who gave birth to me and the royal blood in my veins. Of course I grew. I must if I wish to be worth my fate."

Guthrum kissed Siggy's temple. "You are still as arrogant as a boy though."

Sigurd unsheathed his sword and brought it to Guthrum's neck who did not even break a sweat. "Careful now." seethed Sigurd like one of those serpents who killed his father. "I could have you killed if my niece was not so fond of you and if you were not a good warrior. Know that you are only alive by the mercy of my family, know that you owe our household your life. Know," he said, leaning closer to Guthrum's stern face considering the blade with doubt. "That you are not indispensable though. Your father died because of his arrogance and insults. Do not follow his steps."

Guthrum gave half a grin. "Good to know you do not think Bjorn my father. I am pleased."

Siggy removed Sigurd's blade with her ax with a loud groan. "Enough Sigurd." Guthrum gave a satisfied grin. "And you Guthrum." she turned to him with angry eyes. "Focus on tomorrow's battle instead! The battle will be long."

Sigurd gave a sigh and sheathed back his blade. "You are right. Tomorrow we will rejoice in battle and honor Thor, Odin and Tyr. Now is no true fight."

"Because you'd lose it, scald prince." snarled Guthrum.

Sigurd's serpent danced in his eye and seethed, spitting venom with ire and wrath to come. Had the serpent came out, it would have devoured Guthrum as those who devoured the greatest hero Denmark had ever known. "Because it wouldn't be worthy of my blade, half-jarl."

Guthrum spat on the ground and Sigurd left with a satisfied grin. Guthrum held his hatchet and gripped it as though he was about to strike Sigurd but didn't, for Gye's sword was unsheathed and she would kill him at once were he ever daring to kill a man she had swore fealty a year ago. Guthrum gave her a scornful look and relaxed his tense hand wrapped around the handle and turned it nonchalantly in his hand. There was no need to kill Sigurd now. If he succumbed to anger, he was a dead man. Guthrum gave a cold grin to Gye and sighed. He would be far away from the whole pack of them soon enough anyway.

For now he needed Sigurd to lead him to glory. And he needed Siggy to share his anger with. On that she was the perfect woman for him, not that they talked much anyway. Siggy was a fine woman for bed-warming and anger-sharing, nothing much, nothing less. She had Ragnar's blood in her veins and Guthrum thought it venom. He would never breed with it.

Guthrum put the hatchet back on his belt and rose his hands in the air to show Gye there was no need for slaughter. With a last cold smile, he walked away and gave a chuckle.

Gye looked at him walk away and spat on the ground while sheathing back her sword. She turned to Siggy with eyes full of anger and hatred. "Never stand between me and my lord again. If you do, I will kill you."

Siggy's eyes grew wrathful. "I love Sigurd just as much as you do. I knew it would do him a great disservice to kill such a valuable man as Guthrum, whether he is my man or not."

"Whatever your reasons! The gods know Angrboda loves you and let your foolishness be brushed aside, but I do not. Threaten the life of my lord and I will end yours, royal blood or not."

Siggy gave a joyless smile. "Glad to see my uncle found such a loyal champion. You should have been named Bodvar."

Gye's face was stern and unforgiving. "You should not have been born." she spat.

Siggy's face grew more somber and she took the veil of ire. "Don't stand in my way tomorrow. You will die if you do."

"Make sure Horek doesn't see you then." Gye mocked with a scornful look. "If he does, then I guess there is no killing me." that said, she walked away with angry strides, leaving Siggy ever alone in the middle of a bustling camp.

Siggy gave a sigh and a groan. She threw her ax to a tree and was satisfied to see its blade plunged deep into the wood. She was ever so angry, so abandoned, so alone. She wondered where Angrboda was. At the moment it seemed only her presence by her side would calm her nerves.

Siggy was mad. She was mad at Sigurd for the insult made to Guthrum, mad at Guthrum for those made to Sigurd, mad at Gye for her saying she did not deserve birth or parents, mad at the world for reminding her of her chains and for binding her to a life she did not want. She was mad at her mother she never knew, mad at her father she wished all the sickness in the world, mad at Aslaug, she who could not care for her, mad at Lagertha for her never care, mad at the gods, mad at everything. Siggy hated them all with their hypocrisy and betrayals. Siggy hated them all and only stayed for battle. It was all.

Tomorrow she would fight and kill, slaughter men weaker than toddlers. Tomorrow she will paint her face with red for fright and bear a face Horek will never recognize. Tomorrow she will fight and finally let go of her anger. Siggy was somewhat content Gye would be her battle mate. She may hate the woman at the moment, but she held her in high regard and was glad – truly – that she protected Sigurd. Someone ought to.

Eystein, Sigurd and Ivar would lead tomorrow. Siggy dreaded the battle, but was impatient to finally begin on the path of her destiny. Angrboda's face sprung to her. She had so much to lose and so much to gain.

* * *

The warriors were awoken early in the morning. Ivar's scouts had reported news of an army marching towards the city Siggy and Eystein had raided and all men and women were preparing for battle while the women in charge of food and healing prepared themselves to provide in case of need.

Siggy painted her face in the tent, but ran out of red paint for half her face. Angrboda was behind her, carefully braiding her hair to avoid it falling in front of Siggy's eyes in battle and to avoid anyone to pull at her hair.

"I look like the goddess Hel." said Siggy while looking at herself in the polished iron of her helmet.

Angrboda shrugged. "Does it matter? You will scare them more that way. The goddess Hel is always something amazing to see."

Siggy gave a grin. "Do you think they would fear me more if I put blue paint on my teeth?"

Angrboda shivered. "No. Don't."

Siggy gave a silent laugh. "Paint it is then."

"You are so beautiful, why ruin it?"

Siggy kept her anger at bay and a cold calm came to replace it. "It is not beauty that will give me back my childhood. It has been ruined already, why not ruin it more? I will be beautiful on my own terms and to me, beauty is strength and a burning hall, battlefield and redden skin."

"That is a strange way to see the world." said Angrboda as she tied Siggy's armor. "A sad one."

"What can I say? I am a sad story."

Angrboda kissed the top of her head. "With a happier fate I hope."

Siggy gave a warmer grin. "With you by my side, how can it bring me sorrow Boda? Your name took all the harm you could give. Your father was wise to ward off the fates."

Angrboda gave her a gentle slap on the neck. "You flatter!" then, she took her in her arms. "Don't die Sig. For me and for that glorious fate that I am sure awaits you."

"You put too much faith in me." said Siggy. "I will try one day to repay your kindness. I swear to you I will not die."

Angrboda gave a pleased grin and firmly gripped Siggy's arm. "If you mess my work..." she menaced.

Siggy laughed. "To face your wrath? The Northumbrian army seems like a gentle breeze compared to your storms."

Angrboda tried to give a smile but it lost itself on its way. If Siggy died, she would never recover. It was her first real battle and the stakes had never been so high. Angrboda was afraid, as always at the sight of her covered with blood, whether it was that of a foe, hers or that of a deer she was eating raw, her skin marked with wolves bites. She shivered. Those sights would never go away. She would always fear for her, although she knew Siggy was capable of survival to the point she survived on her own at an early age.

Siggy, she believed, survived for great things, for the gods took notice of her. Freya would always favor a pretty girl with guts.

A horn blew in the distance, a signal of a battle about to begin. Siggy marched behind the army led by Ivar and Sigurd, next to Eystein, in charge of his own and the son of a kinglet in Norway, Thorir, hungry for mighty deeds. Those grew rarer with time and it was his first ever battle. He was a boy barely reaching manhood and Siggy almost pitied him if he were not so arrogant in his fear.

Gye was marching near Sigurd and Horek walked ten feet behind her. Siggy was glad he did not see her. She was also glad Sigurd chose to put her in Eystein's troops, leading some men and berserkers on her own. She quite enjoyed being in command now, although she was much too independent and wanted to abide by her law and do her thing by herself.

"That'd be a shame if your beauty died." Eystein purred in her ear. "That is a shame you hide it."

Siggy shrugged. Guthrum was leading the way with Sigurd and his words resonated with her more than those of Eystein. "Beauty is nothing to me. Blood is all."

"Blood calls blood, princess." Eystein whispered, grazing her skin with his lips. "If you die, I shall mourn you and your pretty eyes. I shall pray to the gods for you to feast with Valkyries as you should."

Siggy blushed, almost flattered. "I am no Valkyrie."

Eystein's hand reached her waist and he stepped closer to her. "What are you then?"

"I am a wolf." Siggy said removing his hands. "If you bite me, I eat you."

Eystein laughed. "Is it as simple as that?"

"As simple as that." Siggy couldn't suppress a smile. Flirting was quite tempting although she would never lay with a man such as Eystein. He was too much a man anyway.

Eystein ruffled her hair and spanked her ass. "Don't die beauty."

Siggy groaned then stomped on his foot and hit his crotch. "I'll bury you before I do." she sang as Eystein yelped and stopped, compelled to hold his groin, cursing after Siggy's violence.

They stopped after half a day walking. The terrain was good, Ivar had said, and his scouts had told of a great army that would be there soon. It was a narrow slope of grass surrounded by a deep forest and the Ragnarssons' army was camping beneath the ridge of it. It was the only path possible for an army to march towards where the vikings' camp was. A bell rang afar. A city bustled nearby, not at all aware of the great army that laid there, with its thousands of men in leather armor, armed to the teeth and ready to kill a portion of the Northumbrian army.

"This will do." said Ivar.

"The trained army is in Wessex fighting for king Aethelwulf. We better fight well and make some noise to make them come back to us. I long for a true fight." Sigurd replied.

Ivar scowled. "Must you always speak poetry?"

Sigurd shrugged. "Must you always be gloomy?"

Ivar gave a cold grin. "Those men we will fight aren't trained. It will be easy. It is almost a shame to Odin."

"If they don't surrender to us, then you can kill them." Sigurd said.

"Thank you for sharing toys." Ivar mocked. "I'll get them all anyway."

Sigurd almost wanted to hit him but restrained his sword. For now he needed Ivar. "What's your clever plan this time?"

Ivar shrugged. "No need to be more shrewd this time. They are but a puny army. They will think they have the higher ground and we will corner them with Eystein's troops, Siggy's and the berserkers. I say we do just like the first time we were here. "

"Except now we lead the army."

"And Bjorn is away in Kattegat. I do find some joy in it." Ivar said with cruelty and bitterness.

Sigurd answered with one of his own. "Shall you speak to our men? I know you crave for attention."

"You are bold for a scald, and generous for a prince. I will let you speak. Those morons couldn't even see greatness if they had eyes." Ivar coldly said.

Sigurd turned around and said "Men and women of the great army, now is the day we finally begin our greatest deed, the conquest of a kingdom my father tried to conquer long ago! We begin our path to revenge for our hero's death, for the murder of a king from people worshiping a dead god! Ours are not! Freya, Odin, Thor and Tyr shall watch over us and guide our swords! Valkyries shall notice you and take you home, in the golden hall where heroes lay!"

They were all listening, although not with as much respect as they should towards a prince, for he was yet still a young man whose exploits had not outshone his father's. Who would listen to a boy who had only fought in less than ten battles, was he of royal blood, descended from Valkyries and gods? Now was no time for the heroes they spoke in the tales. Now was time for realness and conquest just as crude as blood.

Sigurd knew they respected him less than they feared Ivar. But he did not care. He had Gye as chieftain, he had men who were loyal to him, if he needed to, he would become a sea-king such as some Norse kings who set sail from lack of land to plow.

The serpent danced in his eye. He prayed to Sigurd Fafnirsbana for strength and prayed to prove himself to him. His mother had placed a heavy burden upon his shoulder with such a name, and he was afraid he would never fit the expectation. The shoes were too large for his boy feet, still he longed to fill them.

Sigurd shook his head. He was still young. This battle was only the beginning of the path to glory. He tried to remember to compose a lay.

"We tried to wreck them once and revenge didn't take. Now will not be the same. Now, we are prepared. We are no longer pups with wooden claws, with wooden fangs. Now we are wolves of iron and now I say that we show them they should be afraid." he shouted.

Ivar grinned next to him. Was Sigurd not an annoying scald always in his way, always insulting him, he thought that maybe they could have been close. But he thought him too weak for consideration. He would outdo them all anyway. The world was but a worm crawling at his feet.

Siggy and Eystein set off to the forest, roaring with the rest of the troops a great chant that resonated in the slope, in the forest to the sky, masking the sweet sound of the bell that rang in the distance. The sound suddenly grew more desperate as the tolling bell echoed in Northumbria. While it was but a sound ringing to mark midday, now it rang for death.

Siggy tried to calm her breath in the forest above the army. Her heart hammered with anticipation and her hands felt moist around the handle of her sword. She was so tense she almost forgot about the berserkers around her, hiding in a deep nature. Siggy feared she might die, or disappear like her mother. She did not know what she was hoping for in life, but she knew she wanted something. Whether it was freedom from Kattegat, adventures or revenge against her father, something was amiss in her life and she wanted to find it.

The men of the forest vanished completely from her perception, she tried to sniff them and found some nearby, not experienced enough to hide their smell, to hide their nervousness. The berserkers were good at it though, they melted into the forest with great skill and Siggy almost felt them as animals. Eystein was something else. He was blustering and she could but feel him around. He was yet too much human when he should have been beast. He had no knowledge of the forest and she could feel him staring at her ass. Siggy yowled. She would have to bite him to make him hear reason.

She saw Sigurd, Guthrum and Gye beneath her position and a longing grew that she was like them, human more than beast. She was one with the part of her that as wolf but yet, they were beneath her and they seemed so much happy. They had something that Siggy lacked and would never have. She was looking at them through a fence and what she saw made her want she had their lives. Siggy grew envious. Had she been raised in a hall by a queen, maybe she would have been happier.

Another part of the army joined them in the forest, though they hid feet behind the berserkers and Siggy's warriors. Now it seemed as though Sigurd and Ivar had been foolish boys who only brought ten ships with them and not thirty, gathering jarls and kinglets with proper armies during their journey.

Siggy's grip on her sword eased and her eyes fell to Horek, down on the slope. She hoped he would die in battle, but she doubted it. Horek was as much a good warrior as his sister. Still, she wished she could get rid of him, and maybe get rid of Eystein in the process.

The waiting was the hardest part. So much could go wrong and it ran in heads to madness and to fear. Siggy almost dropped her sword when finally, a great thunderous noise announced the marching of an army towards the site. A few men dressed finely rode in front of a small army made of scrawny remains of the English society. Those were paupers, second sons, bastards, old soldiers and half baked boys not even adult yet, wielding what they could find as a weapon. Few carried swords and some had spears and bows. Only the dozen of men riding were properly armed. Those were Aelle's noble.

Ivar grinned below. This would be an easy fight and he wouldn't even have to break a sweat.

Then, came the other part of the army, proper warriors, a few for the many massed below the slope. Ivar grinned and Siggy's smile echoed his. This promised some fun.

One of the men riding blew his horn. The signal for battle and for this muddy ground to become a golden temple of blood and shattered steel for war, for Odin, Thor Tyr and the Valkyries.

Ivar chanted a war-cry and those behind him followed, they roared almost with madness and rang their blades on their shields for some effect upon the Northumbrian. They were already angry, already fearful, for the regular and simultaneous raids had been fruitful in the weal minds of those who dwelt in this rich and prosperous land. Now the noise finished to embed the fear.

"Shield wall!" Siggy heard Guthrum say as the men on foot marched down the hill and archers behind the nobles drew their bow to release a flock of arrows.

The shield wall was something to see. All the shields were brought together elegantly and strongly leaving no space for anything to come in between. It was a shell of the most beautiful kind, strong and warlike. No arrow came through.

The archers kept shooting, the more experienced men were behind, as if the lives of those behind did not matter, as if they were the shield wall of the Saxons and bred to be killed for other to succeed. Siggy could hardly believe it as she realized the nobles tactic. What king would sacrifice his people in such a fashion? What king would sacrifice those who fed him? Suddenly her heart iced and all mercy she could have had left towards those nobles vanished. They deserved to be conquered, and Aelle deserved to die.

The Saxons kept marching, bound by the certainty of their victory against the thin thread of the shieldwall. Then, suddenly, spears sprung from it and impaled the Saxons while a salvo of arrows shot from behind killed men and brought some down with great doleful pangs, while men in the shieldwall cut and sliced feet from below.

The nobles rose their sword and charged with the rest of the army. They rushed down and were half reaching the shieldwall when a horn blew. The signal for the trap to fall upon the Saxons. With great roars, blood-lust and coming out of the shadows of the wild, the berserkers, Eystein's troops and Siggy's came down hill while the rest of the army bypassed the forest and placed themselves at the edge of the slope to form a shieldwall adorned with spears to prevent any chance of escape.

The nobles cried a trap in the middle of the slope and Siggy ran to them, her sword drawn, giving way for savagery, her fangs bare and foaming with a thirst for blood. She was back into the wilds, back into the pack of wolves, back hunting and those below were her prey.

She barely saw the berserkers behead horses with their axes, barely heard the great thunderous clash of steel echoing throughout the land, barely saw Sigurd and Ivar cover themselves with blood as they sprang out of the shieldwall, barely saw Gye thrust her blade in guts and throats with great roars, barely saw Guthrum beside her, always diverting blows. Siggy worked instinctively, all her fears forgotten, cutting, slicing, beheading, striking. Her face grew red with blood and around her, all she saw was flesh to ravage.

A man came to her and tried to strike her dead with a sword, but Siggy, mechanically, dodged it with her shield and opened his chest in half, delighted to spread her fury. She wanted to kill, to bite, to see the ground turn red. She half chopped the head of another man who fell gargling and thrust her blade into the stomach of any Saxon already down. Eystein was beside her and she heard his foul whistling at her when he was not busy slaying people.

Both shieldwalls kept marching towards one another like an vise to press the Saxon army till none remained. Siggy cut a man's arm and a violent pang struck her arm. She had been cut by a blade and now she was hurt. She hissed and roared and lost herself further in battles, here only to kill. So she killed, she ripped off limbs, gutted men, opened skulls, she killed till none remained on the battlefield, till she almost passed out with exhaustion.

A horn tore her of her trance and she looked around. They had won and the nobles bore chains. She looked around and her blood iced in her veins.

Horek was looking at her. He narrowed his eyes as though her face bore familiar features, narrowed them as he tried to think where he had seen her before. He was recognizing her but not fully and Siggy almost gagged. She could already picture the chains around her neck as she would have been brought to Bjorn.

Then Eystein took her apart and Guthrum followed, aware of his lust. Siggy shook herself out of Eystein's grip, still very much wild and walked down the slope towards the only company she pleased at the moment, that of her uncle, Sigurd.

"He saw me." she croaked with panic to Gye, standing beside Sigurd who was looking at the nobles.

Gye scowled and wrinkled her nose. "He is not dead then? What a shame."

"He saw me." Siggy whispered urgently.

Gye shrugged. "Your face is covered with blood. He would have dreamed."

"I tell you he will take me to Bjorn to marry Rognvald." Siggy said, this time angrier.

"I don't care." said Gye. "I only care that this dear brother of mine isn't dead."

Siggy almost gave in to rage. Her thirst for blood was not yet quenched and she longed to wrestle and eat Gye, as towering and massive she was.

"What troubles you?" asked Sigurd, turning to her. "We won. Their families," he showed the noble men, "will come to them and to us. This land is almost ours now."

Siggy's eyes filled with tears. "Horek Torsteinsson. He is Bjorn's spy and he saw me. He will tell Bjorn I am here and he will come and take me back to Kattegat to wed."

Sigurd looked around and found Horek in the middle of severed corpses, while the other men killed those of their own begging for Valhalla, deep in his thoughts, wondering whether he had hallucinated or not.

Sigurd narrowed his eyes. "I think you are safe for now." he said. "Hide your face and he shall never know it was you he saw. In any case, I can bring him to Ivar to appease him sometime, that is if the Saxons don't quench his thirst." he turned to Gye. "Bring the wounded to the camp and have those noble men follow you. I want them well fed and rested for their families."

"Yes my lord." said Gye. "What of Ivar?"

Sigurd looked around and saw Ivar on his cart, overlooking the battlefield, pleased with the red shade of the grass.

"I shall stay with him." he said. "Siggy will too. Take Guthrum and Eystein with you Gye. The battle is over. Now we rest and wait."

The slope emptied of all the living but three while the sun slowly finished its course in the sky.

"We have won a great victory. A much too easy victory. It is not worthy of us." said Ivar. "I need more."

Sigurd came to stand beside him, carefully watching his hand, trying to see any sign he would take his ax and strike him with it. "I know you do."

Ivar turned and glared with contempt. "No you don't. You are too soft. You are not viking enough to dream like I do."

Sigurd shrugged. "I dream like only I do. I want to avenge father as much as you do and conquer as much as you do. Only my method requires less blood and more politics."

Ivar scoffed. "You almost sound like mother. You have her eyes."

"Do not talk to me about her." Sigurd growled. "I have no mother and we have no father. We are only avenging the ghost of what he was to us."

Ivar turned to him. "Mother was a great woman, a great queen and a great sorceress. Mother was a goddess on earth. Why is it you hate her when you should be praising her?"

"Because she never cared for anyone." spat Siggy bitterly. "Except you Ivar. Perhaps she made a mistake saving you."

Ivar glared at her, his hand on his ax. "Careful now, niece. I might kill you for less than that."

"I will eat your cripple legs before you do." Siggy growled back.

Ivar laughed. "I do love a not soft Sig. Such a shame Bjorn wants you locked in a hall. You would be much useful a hound." he faked a sadden sigh. "Ah! If only Horek had not seen you!"

Siggy's heart sank and fear came back. "How do you know?"

"I have ears everywhere here." said Ivar.

Sigurd sighed. "For now, Ivar, we need Siggy as much as we need anyone else. If we want revenge, we cannot lose valuable assets." he stroked his beard. "If Horek saw her it is a problem."

"To you." said Ivar. "Not to me."

"Horek is Bjorn's spy. Wouldn't you like to mess with his plans?" asked Sigurd.

Ivar gave it a thought. "He annoys me." he admitted. "He annoys me with his whore mother and his whore half-baked shieldmaiden wife. He annoys me thinking himself above us, sons of legend and magic, born from a powerful line and heir to the Volsung clan. He annoys me thinking himself greater than us, gods." his voice reeked of hatred. "Yes, I would very much like to mess with his ambitions." he confessed. "Ah! I guess we need to keep Siggy away from him then. This sure will be distracting." he turned to look at her and gave a cruel grin that gave his face a cold beauty. "An unsoft Sig."

Sigurd grew dark. "So what say you?"

Ivar gave a grin. "It is agreed. Siggy shall stay as long as she wishes and if Horek see her then I shall pluck his eyes out. I sure will enjoy it."

As he said it, both Siggy and Sigurd shivered, for they knew it was true.

* * *

Angrboda was in the healing tent, watching as men stirred and twisted on the ground with pain and doleful moans, whimpering as they should in regard of their wounds. She was done healing a man back to health but another screamed as he learned he would lose his sword hand. He yelled Valhalla and gripped his sword tight waiting for someone to kill him. Angrboda closed her eyes tight, suppressing the pain he brought to her. Angrboda was like that. She absorbed everything around her and Siggy's anger was as much pain to her as was her aversion towards Aslaug who she still respected as her queen and master.

Around her, it was but pain and suffering and she almost gagged at the thought of it. She hated it. She longed to be surrounded by peace and happiness and severed limbs, although she was proud of her healing, was to her a torture. She would be better off healing cripples or brewing love potions than healing wounded men.

Her apron was covered with blood. Her hands were covered with blood and she tended small cuts and other non-crippling injuries against infections, using strong ale and a boiling knife.

She worked for hours in the tent, for what seemed an eternity, amidst pain and suffering, cries and tears and pleas for death. She worked against her tears, against pity, and tried to see them only as bags of flesh she needed to fix or sew. She had to give some the sweet release of death, though, and some died when healed. Others dozed off, drifting with fever that Angrboda tried to soothe, for it would lead them to death.

There were not many injured in the tent, and but a few died, but still, the agony made Angrboda suffer as though it had been her who were wounded. She shed a tear. She would ease them all and ward off her name. She swore, this instant, amidst the pain of the world, to seek a cure for anything, to learn from anyone, to wander the world till she found every remedy against every wound. She swore it to herself, to the gods and on her name. She would not be the bringer of sorrow. She would heal and she would spread kindness, such as her mother, such as Aslaug once did.

She would no longer be a receptacle for her father's darkness, nor the world's.

She got out of the healing tent exhausted and covered with blood. She wiped her sweat off her face, covering herself with blood in the process and looked up at the sky and its colored clouds. There was much beauty in this world that met the eye, and Angrboda was thankful for that painted sky above which reminded her of hope and of goodness.

She was drawn to the main tent by whispers and talking and was glad to find Siggy behind a throng of men, her arms crossed and covered with blood.

"This better not be yours." Angrboda said as she stood beside Siggy.

"Boda!" Siggy's face was bright and full of happiness. She laughed. "No, well, a bit yes. It is mostly Saxon blood, although I was wounded in battle."

Angrboda sighed. "Come now. I need to tend your wounds."

"Not now." Siggy sternly said. "I want to hear what Sigurd and Ivar will do."

"Why aren't you with them, then?"

"Horek is there with Gye and Guthrum. And I want to avoid Eystein. He has been flirting with me all day." she said wrinkling her nose with contempt.

Angrboda nodded. This was wise indeed. She did not know what she would do if Siggy was taken away from her. She had been with her ever since she was old enough to remember. "How are your wounds?" she asked.

"Those I got in the raid hurt a little when I was in battle and this one sting a bit but I can take it." Siggy shrugged. "It is but another scar to mark my life."

"Your beauty will be ruined if you keep it up."

"Then it shall be ruined and no one will want to wed me. That is but good news." Siggy said. "To be a man's woman is not something I want."

"Even for Guthrum?"

Siggy shrugged. "It is different. Him and I want the same thing. I know we will never wed or even have sons, for I doubt he wants it or I do, but we will be mates in the shieldwall and become great warriors. I am his equal." she said picturing a life in the shieldwall with him, fighting battles after battles till they died a sword in hand and rejoined Odin's hall, two star-crossed lovers who died together like in the stories.

Angrboda looked at him and his cold eyes. She wondered if Siggy was true, for in his eyes it seemed that there was no space for an equal, only a thirst for revenge.

The nobles were chained facing Ivar and Sigurd. Their families had been brought and few had enough sons to inherit their lands. Many of their women, though, with their brown eyes and chestnut hair were enthralling despite being plain as every woman. Sigurd enjoyed their eyes, brown as the fur of a bear or the trunk of a tree. Still, to him no woman was worth a Norse one, or a Dane one even with that strange fascination he had felt seeing those brown girls from southern lands sold as slaves in rare occasions.

Ivar was different in this matter. To him, breeding with those Saxon girls would bring him shame and weaken his blood. No, he needed a viking woman; a woman to match his greatness.

"My lords." said Sigurd in a perfect English tongue mastered with years of wandering near the merchant ships of Kattegat and hearing men tell of stories here or in Baghdad or Constantinople, learned according to his mother's wishes that her sons could talk to kings of all sort. "Welcome." he opened his arms just as the Christ god did on that cross of his. "Shall you have mead to quench your thirst? We know for sure the blood of your army quenched ours." he joked, belittling them.

"You are arrogant for a boy." One of the nobles said.

Sigurd gave a laugh and Ivar's hand reached his ax. "Perhaps I am. But we did beat you."

"And we will do it again." Ivar added with cockiness.

His smile sent shivers down the Saxons' spine.

"For now, there is no need to fight." appeased Sigurd. He was good at that game, soothing the fear Ivar produced in them. "There is no need for your people to die and we are not here for killing. Not entirely, at least."

"And what will you do? We are chained here like slaves. What will you do if not killing us?" said another noble man, angrier.

Sigurd shook his head. "I apologize for the chains." he snapped his fingers. "Someone remove their chains, but stand ready to kill." called Sigurd in his own tongue.

A few men abode by it and reluctantly removed their chains. The noble men watched warily and shook with fear to what the northmen would do next.

"See now. No chains to hold you." said Sigurd. "We intend to keep you free." he looked at their wives and children. "You and your families." his smile fell and he grew serious. "That is if you swear allegiance to me and my brother."

"You?" a man spat on the ground. "Never! I would rather die than abide by the law of a pagan!"

"This can be helped." Ivar said.

Sigurd held his hand as to stop Ivar's hand. "Come now brother." he said in a honeyed tone compelling Ivar to follow his lead. "Such a bold man cannot be punished, truly." he gave the man a compassionate look. "We will not force our gods upon you. You will be free of worship." Ivar scoffed and gave an outraged yelp but Sigurd told him to shut it with a look. He stepped closer to the man and he suddenly stepped back, afraid of the serpent in his eye as if it came from a world he could not comprehend, a world made of mist and magic. "That is if you choose to swear to us."

"Aelle is our king." one of them pleaded.

Sigurd shrugged. "A king who abandoned you and your families with no true defense. A king who bowed to another king and fights his war."

"Upon his daughter's pleas." said a woman.

"I heard it was to conquer land." Sigurd said. "I heard he does not care for daughters." he stepped aside and looked at her, and she marveled at his comely allure, entranced by the serpent dancing in his eye. "We do care for daughters and we bow to no king." he said, charming. "Aelle enslaved you, conquered you, used you and usurped you." said Sigurd to the kings. "He made you weak and took your crowns." he said with pity. "With an oath of fealty, taxes and men and horse you shall provide us, we will make you kings again, your sons will be princes and your daughter will wed kings. You will be great again, and worthy of the great Saxon kings of then. You shall be kings with only us as masters and you shall be free provided you abide by the Danelaw." Sigurd had said it as though it was the greatest honor. "What say you?"

"If we refuse?" asked a man.

Ivar leaned towards him and gave a cruel smile. "Then you are a dead man."

"What of our sons and daughters if we die?" asked a man.

Ivar looked at them, the children behind, some ready to slit the throat of their father for glory, for an iron crown and a small parcel of land. Ivar gave a smile, greed was the same everywhere. "We are no monsters." he sang. "They will inherit and be kings in your place. The women shall be wed to some of the princes here and become queens in their own right."

"We are no fools." said one of the wives behind. "We know they will be raped and maimed and beaten till they say your gods' names and abjure the faith of their forefathers."

Sigurd looked at her, more comely in gentleness than Ivar. "Beating a woman is dishonorable and we will see that they are well treated."

"They will kill themselves if you touch them." said another wife.

"Then they will be worthy of songs." said Sigurd. "We do not offer you war. We offer you peace for the greater good. Your greater good." he added.

"We refuse to stand by this blasphemy!" yelled four of the nobles.

"If what you say is true, we will stand by you." said their sons to Sigurd.

The fathers turned and slapped their boys. "You will learn respect and keep silent when your word doesn't matter! You are no earl, nor king!" said one.

"Know your place." said another.

Ivar turned to some of his men. "Give them daggers. The sons will take care of their fathers."

Orders were followed and daggers put in the sons' hands. They looked at Ivar, puzzled and he grinned when their fathers' faces suddenly grew full of fear and full of hatred. They would kill their fathers. Ivar had seen that, but the fathers, trustful in their sons' humility had not and this trust had been fatal, for the sons slit their fathers' throats under the screams of some's wives and daughters.

Sigurd had closed his eyes, not wishing to see but still accepting that cruelty was necessary in times of war.

Ivar's grin widened. "Now you are kings." he said. "Swear to us and you shall return home with your household and men of our choosing as guardian and protectors."

"Our sisters?" asked one of the sons.

"They are yours to keep and protect." said Sigurd

"I would marry one." said Thorir who understood parts of the conversation. "I shall go with one of them and wed one of the sisters."

Sigurd nodded. The sons knelt before him and Ivar and upon their sword, they swore to be faithful in oath until they died. They swore it on their line, on their blood, that of their forefathers and on their faith. The bond was strong with faith, stronger when blood had been spilled. They departed after they had sworn with their household without any last look to their fathers they had killed, bearing their sister's wails and their mother's tears of distress although those men had not been of their choosing.

Sigurd turned to the other old noble men, some with sons fighting in Wessex, scared for their safety and that of their line. "Will you swear?"

"My son and that of my lord Deorwine are off warring in Wessex." said one, whose name was Eardwulf. "We are weary of Aelle taking them all for his petty wars, tired of him treating us as his hounds. We will swear to you."

"As will I." said another named Wemba. "If what you promise is true, then we will be content with you as masters. You seem men great enough to follow."

Another gave a sad sigh. "My wife has given me only daughters and no heir, may she rest in peace. I have nothing to lose swearing to you." he seemed weak and tired.

"You do well, and your eldest daughter shall marry one of our men who shall be your heir." said Sigurd.

"That, I would find acceptable." the man, named Aelred. "You killed several of our fellow earls today though and many had no sons. What of their lands?"

"We shall divide them equally and they shall be yours." Sigurd said.

"Then if you are so fair as to do that, then I suppose I shall swear too." said the oldest whose name was Beorthric.

This left no nobles who did not swear. "Good." said Sigurd. "Your decision was wise. Kneel and swear and you shall return home."

"I do have a plea." said Beorthric.

"That is?" asked Ivar.

"Let us bury those whose sons so despicably murdered according to our sacred rites." he said.

"Granted." Sigurd said, nodding.

Ivar gave him a dark look but Sigurd did not want to show the Saxons he had been shaken. Now was the time for shrewd politics and granting Beorthric burial of his kin was but the least he could do. Besides, the Saxon pride was something to respect as such and Sigurd, by pleasing them wanted to win them over completely. He was pleased to see that his method worked and that with politics and cunning he had managed to conquer more land and power in a day than he would have waging war.

Guthrum was silent behind him, his arms crossed and glanced from times to times to Eystein who he had seen too close to Siggy for his liking. Had the sons killed him too, he wouldn't have minded. Horek was not far from him and he watched him from the corner of his eyes. He had seen Siggy but not yet realized it. It had become dangerous here, especially now that Ivar and Sigurd had become the masters of the land. He needed to leave.

The remaining of Aelle's nobles swore their oaths on their swords, their land, their forefathers their line and their faith and went away with their families and a cart red with the blood of the slain under the tent. Siggy watched them disappear from the field with mixed feelings. It seemed they still cared for their own, and their daughters had been brave even though they were but young and inexperienced. Perhaps women were brave anyway. She knew Angrboda was and she knew Helga was.

A few of Sigurd and Ivar's men marched behind some of the nobles as protectors and guards and Siggy saw a few flirt with the maiden turned princesses that day. Had she been raised in a hall by a queen, it would have been her, wooed for her beauty. Sometimes, Siggy wondered if she would like it. But she was too damaged and scarred now anyway to dream of such things. She longed for freedom, not a household. All she wanted was – All she wanted was a family. Some peace at last.

Siggy gagged. The pain was too much and she was tired of all this fighting. The storm in her head exhausted her and she wanted nothing but sleep. It had been a long day.

Angrboda followed her to her tent and when inside, Siggy cried as though she was just a little girl again, scared and tired and so desperately alone.

* * *

 ** _Okay so this was a long chapter and my fingers hurt and I a so glad I finished this monster of words. My head hurts and I am so glad I found inspiration to write this again. I would like to thank my reading of the Gesta Danorum for it and also that of the Half-Drowned King which is possibly one of the greatest read I ever had. Also, Bodvar is a reference for the saga of king Hrolf Kraki. If you haven't read it, READ IT! Many things are coming and I have written but 1% of the story. I am so excited to share with you what will happen next and show you what the seer's prophecies mean._**

 ** _I would also like to than you all, wonderful readers commenting leaving kudos and feedback and reading this half-baked fanfic of mine. I sure am grateful for you. Also, I would like to point out that I am writing an original story which is a romance novel and the first 6 chapters are on Ao3._**

 ** _Next chapter will include Siggy naked, new characters and maybe others... I hope you liked this one as much as I loved writing it. I feel like my writing is growing and it makes me so happy._**


	7. 1-07: Of wolves and queens

The news reached the core of the kingdom of Northumbria that an army led by two sons of Ragnar had defeated that of a few nobles from the north of the land and that they had sworn loyalty and oath of obedience to the Northmen. Across town, all were scandalized and people eagerly called those who chose to submit traitors and cursed their names, hoping they would see Hell. The rest of the Northumbrians would not yield they swore, they would resist.

What was done was done, though and in a day, Aelle lost a quarter of his kingdom while he was away, fighting in Wessex. Now the kingdom was caught between northmen south and northmen north. They were trapped and their king was away, vulnerable to death and peril. Darker times had come, and those clouds of ill omen promised doom for the kingdom.

Fear spread across the countryside and now was the time for paranoia and terror, as people anxiously waited for the northmen to come and slaughter them. It felt as though the Apocalypse was upon them and nowhere was safe anymore.

Behind the walls of the stronghold of Northumbria, in the royal palace in that city protected by new walls, most welcome in those dark times, was Heluna, with her mother, sisters and brother, who would one day inherit the throne and its burdening crown. Leaving to wage war with his son-in-law, Aelle chose not to bring his household with him, for his eldest daughter was there and he had enough with her to last years.

It was calm in the palace, as calm as when a battle was to arise and both armies waited for one to attack. Heluna's mother was in the common room of the palace, reading a letter while her only son was playing chess with his tutor in a corner of the room, and his sisters were weaving some tapestry next to their mother.

"Any news of father?" asked one of the girls.

The queen sighed and put the letter away. "Scarce news, I am afraid."

"Do you think he knows about the northmen?" asked the prince.

"Your highness, guard your king." replied the teacher.

The prince focused back on his game of chess while the queen took a tapestry for her to keep her fingers occupied, but also not to fidget them about, nervous about the outcome of her husband's endeavors and the sake of this kingdom she was born in, for her daughters' sake facing the dread of the Northmen from both sides. Now, the only way for them to be safe was to seek help in Mercia or worse, to the Scots. She feared for her daughter in Wessex, and she feared for her daughters in Northumbria. She feared for their holiness and virtue, for she knew what tales they told about them and women and how they ravished pretty girls. Heluna was old enough for marriage, her sisters were not.

The queen gave a heavy breath. Of all the children she had borne, only five remained. She cared for them all the more.

Heluna gazed at her mother, wondering what could trouble her mind before she realized that her thoughts were, like hers, lingering upon the Northmen. "What news of father?" she asked.

"They have won a slight victory in Wessex. He is aware the sons of Ragnar have come here too and shall depart as soon as possible to come hither and defend our shores from those heathens. He has the support of Aethelwulf upon this but I think he does not know about the turning of tide we recently abode by." she said. "We will need strong alliances to overcome this. And even if we cannot prevail..." no. They had to prevail. For God's sake and that of her children, Aelle would prevail, even if it meant bargaining her son and selling her daughters. The kingdom came first.

"I have heard of those sons of Ragnar." said Heluna. "I have heard they came to avenge their father's unfair death."

"Nothing was unfair about this." the queen coldly said. "It was only justice for years of darkness spread upon us."

"Judith laid with one. What can you say about it?" Heluna seethed, angered.

The queen softly sighed and put her work away. Judith had been her first; the first to have survived. Judith had always been her favorite and she sold her still to Ecbert and his son who cut her ear for adultery. She had embraced it but had never quite forgiven her husband who insisted upon this marriage. Had Judith stayed here, nothing would have been lost.

"Judith is there. We are here." she said. "Ragnar's death was necessary for our well-being. His sons' death is necessary for yours."

"No death is fair if a trial is not held first." Heluna said. "Ragnar Lothbrok should have been tried. They speak of great kings in the bible and all are fair."

"A woman mustn't speak so boldly about religion." the teacher scoffed. "A woman must listen and weave, breed children when asked to and abide by God."

Heluna sighed. "If so you must say." before she wove that tapestry back. She knew what laid before her in the future. She would wed a Saxon king, carry his children, let him spread his venom upon her when he would feel the need to and give her voice away, always complying to orders, always listening to the society of men. Such was her future; a shadow.

She didn't want to be a shadow, a mere fleeting face in the narrative. She longed for her voice to be heard. She longed for her words to be listened to, reckoned and taken in account. She wanted to matter to someone, to a kingdom. She wanted respect from her society. She wanted to be a queen fit to stand beside a king but also to rule on her own. If her father married her off to someone, she wanted him to respect her. She was no stupid girl. She was clever and she knew it damn too well.

She had heard about those sons of Ragnar. She had heard one crawled like a snake bearing a face that seemed carved in a cold marble; that he was as cruel as he was beautiful, that he killed for the pleasure of blood and that his voice hid promises of death. She heard that what he lacked in legs, he had in cleverness.

She had also heard of the other one, just as handsome as his brother, only they said his beauty was that of a comely prince with cascading blond hair, fair eyes and full mouth. They said he was the child of spring, but that a snake slept in one of his eyes, that his venom was just as terrifying as his brothers'. Sometimes, people pretended that the snake in the prince's eye was his brother who fueled him with his own anger. They said his sight alone could turn a man to stone, that when angered, he was just as horrifying as his brother. They said that whoever crossed his path would get eaten by the serpent, unless it was his brother.

They said many things about those two, the youngest of Ragnar's sons. They said they were young but just as fierce as their kin. They called them giants; they called them gods. They were two snake brothers, avenging their father's death from a pit of serpents. If there was something beautiful to ponder about such a man's death, it was this.

Heluna stood up from her seat, bearing the tension no longer and walked to a window, her strides echoing throughout the room under her mother's disapproving eyes, her long dress dragging on the stone floor. She gave a gentle smile to her little brother who returned it. They had always been close. When they were younger, they used to play together, until she was taken away to spend her young years with other respectables ladies who became her maids of honor. She was no queen yet and could but have a few of them, but they were good and wise. Heluna had always taken clever girls in affection.

She sat by a window and gazed at the horizon, the endless fields of Northumbria, the forests, its valleys and hills, its rocks and wilderness. It was a fine country. She glanced at the city below, the scarce farms amidst the fields, its people so calm and placid. She watched over the peace of it and sighed. It was a shame, she thought, that a flock of heathen should have come here to ravage it all. It was a shame, especially because her father was the cause of it. Had she have a say, she would have ask a trial to be held, but she had not and her father had told her that a woman mustn't interfere with state affairs; and she had accepted it, shut her voice and concealed this storm that brewed inside of her. It was a matter of survival in court; to shut it and be obedient.

"When your father return, he shall marry you. You reached this age." the queen said. "You are a woman, now. You must act as such."

Heluna had always thought her purpose as a warden to her kingdom. She had always wanted to protect it and be hailed holy by her people like that Frankish princess they spoke of, although she married a heathen herself. She wanted what was best for her country. She wanted peace for them, and if marriage was the only way to that purpose, then "So be it." in her mouth, it resembled a death sentence.

"An alliance with Frankia would do us good." the queen sighed. "I will see that a message is sent to your father to urge him back and send an envoy to the Frankish king in Soisson."

Heluna said nothing, sitting by the window, gazing in the distance, to those fields of golden grain that it seemed were on fire. Surrounded North and South, it seemed as though Northumbria would not survive and there was nowhere to flee. Heluna was trapped; trapped by armies and trapped by her condition. She was like those ancient princesses she had been told about trapped between brothers and enemies, but she lacked the courage to go forth her fears and claim what she longed for, to be a maid fierce enough to stand between armies and command peace.

"Once I am married, all will be better." she tried to convince herself.

* * *

Angrboda woke up suddenly, covered with sweat, her heart racing in her chest. She looked around as to make sure she was safe and not trapped in the nightmare she just had. She gave a sharp breath and tried to relax by carving a piece of wood while humming herself a song Helga used to sing when she was scared of thunder. Once her heart regain a moderate rhythm, she listened around the clatter of men training, cackling of geese and chicks, brouhaha of men and women chatting either in Saxon language either in Norse or Dane.

Beorthric had offered to shelter Ivar and Sigurd's army in his fortress and although his people disapproved, they were soon delighted to see that once the Northmen were rid of their bellugerent appetites, they were all the more civil and strict with themselves. Many were the women to swoon over how clean and fresh the men of the North were, and how refined they often wished to appear.

The princes, as well as Eystein and other kinglets or jarls slept within the castle while the rest of the army slept in tents, protected from the cold harsh wind by walls. Nevertheless, Angrboda wrapped herself in thick furs, almost purring at how warm she felt.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Siggy asked as she entered the tent with a hot beverage. "I heard you humming that song." she gave her the bowl.

Angrboda smiled and sipped with delight this warm thing that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. "I dreamed of fire." she said. "It is always the same since we left. It does not make any sense."

Siggy sat on her raw bed and began to carve her own piece of wood. "Tell me still."

"Are you sure you do not wish to be with the men? Training?"

Siggy shrugged. "Horek is still lurking around. I cannot show my face to him."

"And Guthrum?"

"Busy talking with Sigurd and Ivar about what to do next. Eystein is with them and Gye is with them, ensuring Ivar does not kill her beloved prince." Siggy scoffed.

Angrboda sipped a little more of the beverage and sighed. "Why am I always making the same dream? Why do the gods torment me with such horrible visions? What do I see? What does it mean?" she grew bitter and melancholy. "If Aslaug was here, I could have asked her. If she had been alive she would have given me guidance." she shed a tear. "I miss her. I miss her wisdom."

Siggy scoffed. "Wisdom? She abandoned me! She abandoned Sigurd! She was a selfish woman and I am glad she got what she deserved. She should be forgotten." her rage festered in the tent like venom.

Angrboda's eyes grew dark. "Shut up." she coldly said, gritty. "You are just as selfish as herself, wallowing in your self-pity! Do you know what it is to care for a disabled child, a household and a kingdom? No! She had slaves for one thing but only herself for the rest. She was an admirable woman desiring to take care of her children herself and take care of her kingdom because she knew that no one would ever do her part as well as her! You are blind! Blind! She did not abandoned you! Her slaves did! Bjorn did! Your mother did! Lagertha did!" she stopped, shaking with ire. "You know nothing of what she has been through! You only care about yourself!"

Siggy was agape and hesitated between anger and shame.

"I loved that woman! She told me everything I know! She taught me what I need to heal your sorry ass! She did more for you than you can think but your anger turned yourself against her now and then! She begged your forgiveness, but you were too stupid to see it!" Angrboda gave a sharp breath and frantically wiped off a tear from her cheek. "I will not be quiet as you insult her. She was my mother's friend. She delivered me. She was generous, but you don't see it because it was not directed only to you." she stood up. "You are a selfish woman, Sig. It is time you change your perception of the world."

"I am not selfish!" Siggy yelled. "The others are! They abandoned me!"

"I never did." Angrboda seethed. "And yet you mock my pain and my love for women you hate because you can't _bear_ others to love them." she stood up. "You're a child. It is time you grow up." before Siggy had as much as a second to reply, she left the tent and walked out of the fortress towards the forest nearby where she knew she would be left alone to think about her dream.

Trickles streamed down the hills as Angrboda measured each of her step on the knobbly slope. Bird tweeted while nature seemed to shift all around her. Angrboda walked up to hill, savoring what breathed around her, glad to recall the atmosphere back home. She was never more herself than into the wild.

The air was sweet in Northumbria and through the trees she saw the walls of Beorthric's fortress. It had grown to be a hive. Many were the men who left to siege in other strongholds that Ivar and Sigurd's army conquered, but still, those under the command of Norse kinglets remained there, warring, trying not to kill one another for blood feuds and petty quarrels. Angrboda felt good up there, away from them and their anger. She had this way of absorbing every emotion around her and it exhausted her. She constantly felt about to break into wails and screams. Siggy's anger was too much for her to bear and she tended to discharge it all upon her society.

Angrboda lay in the grass, not daring enough to close her eyes and see the burning hall. She couldn't help thinking her vision was meant to someone else.

"I don't have the sight." she said. "I cannot foresee anything but my pain and my death. Happiness is out of my reach." she chuckled. She resembled her father too much. Had she been there, her mother would have scolded her. Helga was always terrifying when trying to convince people of the goodness of the world. Angrboda had felt it enough to know those were lies, but so long as Helga was happy, so was her daughter.

'You have a rare gift, Boda.' Aslaug had said to her, clasping her hands in hers. 'Few are those connected with the world enough to feel it as a whole and absorb emotions like you do. Those gifts will draw attraction from many men, and they will help you to understand everyone. It is a rare gift indeed, a powerful one; one that will leave you scarred.' she had spoken those words by the hearth when Angrboda was six. She never forgot it; the sight too eerily frightening to sink into oblivion.

She feared Aslaug's eyes, her visions and her might, her connection to pain and a dark future. She feared her connection with the great unknown, feared that void she felt around her, this echo of blades and blood and fear and death. She feared her in all her gleaming, exquisitely powerful sorcery, feared her rasp voice, her hoarse words, her dark dryness when it came to the future; and later she realized it wasn't her she feared but the future she saw, this nothingness of existence she felt; what use to living if you knew when you died? What use to fighting when you knew you couldn't? A seeress could only embrace the inevitable.

"Look what it did to her." Angrboda bitterly said. "I can't let it happen to me." it would destroy her.

Feeling rather tired she dozed off to a troubled sleep filled with burning halls which smoke stifled her breath, she dreamed of many things: a golden tree, a red-fanged wolf, a bear, two lions fighting crowns, animal-headed gods and goddesses, palaces of marble that fell under a rain of fire, Midgard set aflame by fat arrogant brats, Jormungand twisting and turning until the sea covered it all, darkness. She saw shifting faces, always, but one locked itself amidst this whole motion and she bore the face of Aslaug: Aslaug with perfect skin, almost golden hair and a skin which seemed to irradiate light, dressed in gold and blue.

 _"A rare gift you have, my child."_ she said. _"A rare gift indeed. Fear not what is not yet but what is. Fear serpents around you, fear gilded queens and gilded kings. Fear them, for they will want your skill and use it to their ways. Fear chains and remain free. That is the advice I give to thee."_

 _"Beware of the blood moon. Beware of the charred hall. Beware of the wolf girl. They will bring you ill fate."_ chanted maidens of familiar faces. _"Beware, beware, beware."_

Angrboda suddenly woke up soaked with sweat as her heart pounded in her chest. That last face; that last face was that of death itself. She shed a few tears, shuddering with fright. Why now? Why couldn't it awaken when Aslaug was still alive to guide her? Angrboda lost her north star. It felt as though she was her own now. If only Helga were here, or her father for that matter. Were they here, they would have been able to guide her, but Floki was needed as well as his boats and her mother foolishly never left him.

She started as something crawled in the grass. "There you are!" said Ivar.

Angrboda frowned. "Did you crawl your way up there?" she drew her knees back to her chest. "I must have slept long."

"You snore." Ivar grinned.

Angrboda let him come and sit beside her. He was almost bashful in her presence in the middle of nature. One look at her and his heart seemed taken up to the skies. He gawked at her in awe, finding her delightfully divine in simplicity.

"You would make a great queen." he sighed. "You would be known as Sif incarnate, lady of the harvest in Summer and Eir the rest of the year. You would be god-like. Who better for a queen? Who better suited than you to wed the heir to a glorious line? It takes a goddess to marry a god."

Angrboda laughed. "You flatter me." she gave him a playful grin. "Who might that prince be? Sigurd? Hvitserk? Bjorn?" she looked up to the sky, her smile as clear and genuine as that of a girl. "If it is Sigurd I might agree. He would sing me to sleep each of the night we would lay in each other's arms."

Ivar's eyes grew cold which made Angrboda giggle. He blushed and angrily turned his head away. "Fine! Marry a half-man if it suits you!"

"Aw. Are you pouting?" Angrboda said with her usual teasing temper. She bumped her shoulder against his, feeling the stiffness of a shy boy. "Would you have wanted me to say your name?"

Ivar stiffened. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. You didn't say it."

"I thought it, though." she breathed. "Why did you come to find me?"

"You are not with Siggy. That is unusual." Ivar observed.

Angrboda grew cold. "Is that a bad thing?"

Ivar turned his icy eyes, his sharp jaw, his perfect beauty to her sight – she had grown so used to his handsome face that to her it appeared nothing at all. "No." he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Some men fought back at Beorthric's fortress. Eystein's men quarreled with those of a kinglet in southern Norway over some blood feud with some king named Halfdan the Black. They need your expert skills."

Angrboda sighed. "Again? Why don't men show any restrain? Women are definitely more civilized!"

Ivar grinned. "The unsoft Sig isn't though."

Angrboda shivered at the thought of Siggy, basking in blood, devouring the carcass of a deer. "No." she choked on brewing tears. "No she is not." she was afraid Siggy might come back to that emaciated state, wolfing over remains of meat, covered with bite marks, famished and wild. She was afraid Siggy might lose what made her human. "And you? How are your legs today?"

Ivar grew nervous and shy, almost obedient, almost weak. So rare a sight was it that Angrboda and Angrboda only had seen it. "They are less painful when I am laying on my back."

"Good."

"No. It isn't. What is a warrior one that cannot walk or fend for himself? I am no use laying down! I have better walk and break my bones, shatter myself whole if it allowed me to cover my name with glory!" Ivar seethed. "I am the last son of Aslaug Godsent and the son of the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok, himself descended of great kings! Who will I be if I do not live up to their legacy? Fuck the pain! Fuck my legs! It fuels me well enough!"

Angrboda replied to his anger with an smile. "May I see them?" she asked.

Ivar set his jaw. "Do I have any choice?" his voice rang with anger. Her would rather she saw him as a man instead of a cripple she had to take care of.

"Depends on your pain. How is it?"

Burning, aching, sizzling, life-wrenching. It felt as though his bones were constantly on the brink of shattering. "Tolerable." he said.

"May I?" she asked, reaching for his legs.

Ivar angrily unfastened the buckles that kept his legs together, removed shoes and hose and let her graze his skin with her hands. She had that gift, just like Harbard, to take pain away, to soothe a mind and seduce it, but unlike Harbard, unlike her name, she brought no sorrow, no ill intent; only softness and gentleness as would a doe.

He winded his hand around hers, mechanically lingering on her palm. "You would make a great queen." he said again.

"I am no princess," she replied as the drew back her hand.

"To me you are. You were fostered by a king and a queen. You are a noble woman, Boda. A goddess even."

She laughed as she roamed his legs, taking his pain away. "I am nothing of the sort. I heal people and that is it."

Ivar lay in the grass, moaning at her touches, wincing when pain struck. Her hands were fresh and he felt as though she took all the fire in her hands to discard it away. Her palms reached dangerously close to his crotch and he suddenly wished she would go there, caress him there for his own enjoyment. If he wanted, he could take her right here, claim her before Sigurd did, make her his wife and she would bear him strong children.

"I have wanted you ever since I knew what desire for a woman was." he groaned.

Angrboda withdrew her hands. "I know." they shook with pain and her head was spinning with what she felt troubled him.

Ivar grabbed her hand back. "If I was not – If I was not what I am, I would have you! I would court you! I would make you my queen!" Angrboda let him pull her near him, set her hand to his crotch. "See!" he said, pleading. "See I ache for you! Boda!"

She straddled over him and watched him, flustered as her hair cascaded over his torso as she felt him grow harder. She saw him gulp and was tempted to kiss that beautiful throat of his, but restrained, not daring to break the magic of her towering over him in a simple might that resembled to an alluring seduction. She leaned over him, grazing his lips with hers, feeling his hot breath against her neck, plowing through his hair, delighted in his low grunt of lust, of his closing his eyes to keep himself from bedazzlement. She leaned further and placed a long kiss on his soft lips and felt his tongue against hers, eager for more than a mere kiss. She kept it at bay, as she pictured what he would want next: he would keep on kissing her, turn her around and lay over her, kiss her again and again and he would remove her dresses and thrust himself inside her, after he would have made her wet for him. He would do that and Angrboda wanted none of it. She kept his tongue away, and broke the kiss, rubbing his lips with her thumb before she fell back beside him.

Ivar panted beside her, reaching for his groin in a sore desperate way. His whole self ached for her body. Angrboda knew that, but still, she wouldn't help him.

She gave a sigh as she played with his hair. "I wonder what would have happened had I been a mere farmer girl. I would have married a farmer boy and we would have had farmer children for you to levy and send to slaughter while your swines would have stormed into our farm and did rampage and raped and burned. I wouldn't have been raised in the hall of a queen. I wouldn't have been given my gifts and skills and I wouldn't have wanted to come to heal you and your men. I wouldn't have to make you suffer, dear Ivar." her voice was sad.

Ivar gave a sharp breath. "I would have made you my queen, still."

"You would have chained me then. You would have stripped me of freedom and I would have been tied up to a throne I don't want. I don't care for power, Ivar. I care for knowledge."

"Then I would take you anywhere you would want! I would have protected you as a husband does his wife!"

Angrboda shook her head. "No. Marriage is yet another chain I can't bear. I cannot be tied. I wasn't bred to be wed off to princes. I was born for my own purpose and I am sorry to be this honest with you, Ivar, because I deeply care about you, but my fate doesn't lie with you."

He looked almost desperate then, but composed himself in a cold mask of indifference. "What is a woman one that discard power?"

"A wise one. Power corrupts good and draws death to even the best of women. Your mother and Lagertha are a prone example of this."

Ivar set his jaw in anger. "I'll avenge her one day. I'll kill the bitch and expose her wretched body to the wind and the crows and she shall never reach Valhalla. My beautiful mother will be avenged! Of this I swear!"

"Then you'll expose yourself to Bjorn's anger." she said.

"I'll sell his sons as slaves and send Siggy for him. I know she will burn him alive if she had the chance." Ivar grinned.

"Anger will consume her too." Angrboda gritted. "I will not let you use her in a way that might threaten her soul."

Ivar rolled his eyes. "Why do you care about her so much anyway?"

She picked up a flower. "She and I are the same; we long for freedom, for wind and sails, for adventures and other realms. I understand her and she needs me. She is my key to freedom and I her guide. We have been living together for so long it feels as though we are bound to each other. To be perfectly honest, I doubt I can live without her. I love her, Ivar, even when it is hard for me to love her."

"You love her and you won't love me." He scoffed. "Is a cripple so hard to love?"

Angrboda grew cold. "You aren't demeaned because of your legs, Ivar and you know it damn well! You have wits and beauty and you could have any women here! Besides what tells you that you won't walk? What tells you your condition is permanent? You were too mollycoddled as a child! Aslaug was wrong to nurse you as she did! It made you think your legs could not be helped. It can, Ivar! With the right treatment, the right re-education and the right way of doing it you could walk! But if you chain me with matrimony I cannot learn and I cannot heal."

He angrily put back his hose and shoes and fastened the belts around his legs, breaking their intimacy. "Whatever you say! Do not tempt me with it! My legs are hopeless! I thank you for your faith though – and for the healing."

Angrboda scoffed. "Incredible! I bring him hope and he refuses it!" his darkness didn't meddle well with her dim light.

"Hope is for the weak, for those who would rather see the gods luminous! You and I have been well versed in their dark truth. Your father taught us well."

"He taught us wrong."

Ivar shrugged. "Well then I think Sigurd is a better match for your wit! He is so _soft_." he sounded bitter.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, spare me your tantrums, please! I have enough of them with Siggy alone. You two are sucking the strength out of me."

Ivar started with anger but grew calmer. "I didn't mean to."

Angrboda pinched the top of her nose. "I am sorry for that disappointment, Ivar. You cannot have me."

He tried to erase his sadness. "One day, you'll change your mind and I'll be there to make you my queen. You will sleep in my bed every night I deem it fit and you will be raised higher than any of my other wives."

"That is what you say." she smiled, knowing, from those visions she still needed to figure out, that she would never be chained to Ivar, that his fate laid elsewhere, astray, in green lands and cities made of stone.

"What I say is true. I am Ivar the Boneless and I always keep my promises."

* * *

"Are you sure?" asked Guthrum, a pair of scissors in his hand.

"Yes." Siggy nodded. "Cut it."

"You'll look like a thrall." he spat it, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Why would you?"

"Horek is here and I must hide. I must hide no more if I am to fight and lead the troops my uncle gave me. Cut my hair like you would a man and be done with it. I am no princess. I am no woman now. I shall be a man, for Bjorn is looking after his female offspring, not a male." she was gritty. "Cut it. The shorter the better."

His hands brushed her scalp and wrung her hair. "If you are a man, then what of us? Will you be my bed-woman, or my bed-man?"

She turned as to face him, a wide smile on her face. "I'll always be your woman." she took his hand. "That said, I must fight. I must earn my men's trust to lead them away from Bjorn."

Horek's smile grew cruel. "When this is all over, I will make you my woman and my men will be yours, just as yours will be mine."

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she gave a crooky grin. "Did I flee a marriage only to be thrown into your arms? Will you take me to Kattegat and ask Bjorn for my hand?"

With a sly smile, he grabbed her waist and drew her to his lap, where she sat. His hand went up her thigh as her breath cut short, pulling the folds of her dress up, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, sneaking under her smalls. Her breath grew quicker and she moaned, her lips quivering, begging for kisses, as her hips waved, eager for his touch.

He brutally claimed her lips as she straddled him, grasping his hair, drawing him closer, to her mouth, to her throat, to her breasts. They moved in unison, moaning, groaning and when Siggy was ready for him, he recoiled and sat her on his lap again. "I won't ask. I will claim you. I will take you."

She leaned to his lips, disheveled. "Then you ought to be quick. Eystein's desire grows by the day. What about you claim me now? It won't be that hard." she gave a grin, her hand reaching his groin. "At least, not as hard as your cock."

"Hearing you scream my name would feel good, but I prefer to save it for tonight." he bit her ear. "Your hair." he snarled with contempt, wrung a lock of her fair hair in his hand. "Now, to make you a thrall."

"To make me a man. Bjorn has but one daughter and I am not." she wriggled out of his grasp. "My hair cut, I shall no longer be Siggy, I shall be Sigvaldi, warrior sworn to prince Sigurd."

He grasped her ass and pulled her towards him. "At night, you will lay with me, and I will remind you that you are a woman."

"Not tonight. Tonight I drink, I fight, I feast. Bjorn is away, Horek will be fooled and his plans will be dead."

He kissed her thumb, lingering over his mouth and grinned. "And we conquer. We will make ourselves rich and rule over the Saxons."

She shrugged. "That is what you want." she sat, turning her back to him, untangling her hair. "Now, cut it."

Guthrum seized the scissors. It would be so easy for him to merely slit her throat, to stab her in the back. She trusted him and he trusted her rage, why not do that and be relieved of it? He could marry a noblewoman, spread his seed across the Saxons' land, breed sons untouched by the great Ragnar Lothbrok. He could avenge his father, right here, right now. But it would not serve his cause and if he killed, Ragnar's sons would see that he would be killed, and he would be, either killed in the square, either in battle, either at sea or either poisoned. He couldn't. For now he needed her, but he wouldn't follow her.

He cut the first strand of hair jaw-length. "You still remain a woman, your features fine, and bosom buxom." he inhaled her hair. "I will always want you." there was no deceit in his voice. No matter the stain of Ragnar, she was a woman he enjoyed.

She gave a smile. "And I, you." she looked at sparse strands of hair falling on the ground. She had not realized how long they were until now. A faint tear pearled at the corner of her eye. Farewell, Siggy the girl. She wasn't fond of her anyway.

She relaxed as Guthrum cut her hair, warm shivers running down her spine as she savored his hand on her scalp. She moaned, while golden threads fell, like autumn leaves, ceding their place for winter to come. Winter would soon come, but first, blood needed to be shed to ensure the Northmen's rule over Saxon fiefs and realms. Sigurd and Ivar did well in proclaiming noblemen kings under their rule, but she did not doubt there wouldn't be quarrels for more land. She could already smell the Saxons fighting for more, killing their neighbors. It was a fine plan if Sigurd and Ivar wanted to give those lands away to their favorite chieftains. It was not the end of the way, though, merely the beginning. Northumbria would fall and Siggy would be there to watch it crumble down.

Then... Then... When everything would be over... She gave a sad sigh. She would forever be on the run. Her blood was quick to flow and she hardly could stay in one place for too long otherwise she grew bored or melancholy. She could ask Angrboda to follow her no more. She would want to settle an live a peaceful life. Siggy would hate herself if she took it away from her.

She shed a tear, feeling the sting of hollow prospects. "I hope men won't be mad I haven't a beard." she chuckled in a sob.

"They will find you far too pretty to blame you on this. They will simply think you a boy." he placed a peck on the top of her head. "You're all done."

"Show me."

He handed her a silver mirror she took and marveled at her face, at her hair, cut as short as her ear-lobes. Without her long hair to frame it, her jaw seemed harsher, her eyebrows thicker, more furrow, her lips seemed to have lost some softness in it. If she hid her breasts well and completed her disguise with large shoulders, she could easily pass as a boy.

She frowned, though, at her eyes. She didn't like them. She hated them as she felt Lagertha's hard eyes on her, judging what she was, lording over her even, looking with contempt and a bit of shame. She tossed the mirror across the tent. Looking at her eyes for too long would bring her here and she did not want her to find her, looking through her own eyes. It was the only thing she ever got from Bjorn; treacherous eyes.

"That will do." she stood up and undressed to strap on her breasts. She caught Guthrum's eyes on her nipples and gave a mischievous grin. She lowered the piece of cloth that was to hide her breasts. "Are you satisfied, lord?"

He groaned his arousal. "Call me lord. Again." he asked, his eyes devilishly alluring.

She slowly stepped towards him, straddling him again. "Lord." she cupped his face in her hand.

"Again." he ordered.

"My lord." her lips hovered over his, sultrily quivering.

He bit her lower lips to kiss her whole, tongue against hers. "Will you kneel? To honor me?" he murmured in her ear.

Siggy moaned as his mouth went to her breasts, and dug her nails deep in his flesh. She needed him inside of her, Her maidenhead gone, Bjorn would never be able to marry her off, even as a third wife.

The entrance to the tent flapped open all of a sudden. Siggy gasped and turned to see Eystein there while Guthrum gave him a dark glare. Eystein frowned, seemingly amused by the scene in front of his eye.

"You lay with boys, now, Guthrum?" he taunted before he opened his eyes wide at the sight of Siggy's breasts. "Loki!" he spat.

Siggy stood up with an annoyed groan, hiding her breasts under the cloth that was to hide them to the whole camp. She put on a large shirt and large hoses. "No." she grunted. "Sigvaldi." she gave him a smile, when she noticed surprise still carved on his face. She patted his chest. "You'll get over it."

"What are you doing here?" Guthrum bore a snarl as though he had been a prince disturbed in his love-making.

Eystein shook his head away from Siggy's face. "Ivar and Sigurd asked for you and Siggy." he rolled his eyes. "Well, Sigvaldi, now, I suppose."

Siggy shrugged. "Only for a time."

Guthrum stood up with a groan and tied his sword on his belt. He turned Siggy to him and claimed her lips while staring intensely at Eystein who rolled his eyes once more. He rubbed his thumb on her lips. "I'll go first. I need to inform Sigurd of your new name before Horek comes in."

Siggy nodded. "I will tell Boda tonight if she is not still angry with me."

"I thought it was Gye who was angry with you." said Eystein.

"What can I say? I piss women off." she gave an apologetic smile.

"Men too." Guthrum held her waist.

She smiled. "Men too. Now go, I will see you tonight to finish what we started here before we were so rudely interrupted."

Guthrum gave a gentle slap on her ass and exited the tent, not without glowering at Eystein, his eyes two burning fires that resembled his reddish beard and glowing flaxen hair. Eystein watched him go, battling his glowering with a dark glare himself.

"You cut your hair." Eystein said, more like a regret that an assessment.

Siggy grinned and scoffed. "I did. Did I need your permission? Do you see me more like a man, now?" she stepped forward, her eyes daring and proud.

Eystein licked his lips that spread into a wide grin. He leaned his lips, grazing hers, while grabbing her waist. She yawled. "I have already a wife at home. I need a warrior in my bed too." his lips were close. She could feel his breath on her skin. "You remain a woman, short hair or not and one day I will bed you. You will bring me more sons than I already have and I will be your lord."

"That day, I will cut your balls and wear them around my neck."

He laughed. "You keep on with those threats and every one of them makes me want you more."

Siggy pushed him aside, knocking her knee on his crotch. "My uncles await." she said. "You would do well, you, a poor jarl, to obey princes."

Eystein's eyes grew dark. "My father was a king."

Siggy shrugged. "A petty king, indeed. And you did nothing to keep the crown, boasting like you are, Eystein Ivarsson. At least Bjorn and my uncles are sons to a farmer turned king with the blessings of the gods."

He chuckled once more, stepping at a respectable distance from her. "Woman, you are a thunderstorm."

She grinned as she exited the tent, her face as masculine as she needed it to be. "A thunderstorm that will have your balls."

"A thunderstorm still." he panted as he strode beside her towards the great dark stone building towering over high walls and a myriad of tents.

Siggy saw Angrboda in front of her and a sly smile spread across her face. She held her face high, in plain sight and crossed Angrboda's eyes. She gave her a quick look and a faint frown without any emotions, other than curiosity. Siggy turned away to look at her and saw that Angrboda had done the same, brows furrowed in sheer confusion. Siggy gave her a grin and winked at her, sending a kiss her way.

"You are a man now, I guess you would want to lay with women." Eystein joked. "I can bring some slaves to your bed."

"No woman is worth Angrboda." Siggy grimly said. "If I had to lay with a woman, I would choose her." her hand lingered on the handle of her sword. "If you try to have her, not only will I kill you, but you will not reach Valhalla and I shall seek vengeance upon your whole family, curse them for generations to come." she seethed. "No one is to harm her in any way. Do you understand?"

Eystein scoffed. "Why, judging by your voice you had her I suppose. Did she scream?" they passed the entrance of the castle.

Siggy pinned him against a wall with a loud thud, unsheathed her dagger she brought to his throat. She could smell his fear, but he would not betray it for nothing in the world. Siggy's anger-face left place for a smile without joy. She leaned over to his ear and pressed a kiss there before she bit it hard, leaving bite marks on his lobe, blood dripping from her teeth. Eystein gave a loud scream of pain mixed with rage.

Siggy recoiled and chuckled. "Yes. She screamed just like that this morning." She turned away and kept walking through the threshold, licking her lips, half savoring the metallic taste of blood.

"I hope no one saw you, Sigvaldi." he said as he reached her. "You would be a dead man otherwise."

She gauged him head to toe. "I was clearly dominating you. My honor is safe here." she grinned. "I cannot say the same about you." she mimicked his screaming.

He brutally seized her forearm. "Don't anger me woman." he growled.

"Then don't provoke mine." she seethed back, striding through the large hall towards the upper rooms where Sigurd was most likely to be.

He groped her ass. "One day, you will submit, or regret it."

She squinted at him. "Are you drunk?"

"On you, yes."

"Oh. Then you'll sober soon enough." she walked up to a large corridor that oversaw the base floor which led either to bed chambers or large room filled with paper. She stopped by a door ajar. "Do not make me kill you in the square. You have value as a chieftain and my uncle would suffer the blow of your death; and I must protect him."

He scoffed. "You like him, I see. Do you wish to bed him too?"

"That is a crime." she gravely said. "I don't do crimes." she gave him a look. "I wish I was your niece. I would marry you." her eyes grew colder. "To shame you." she added.

"Thereupon you would shame yourself too."

"I already am a shame to my father." She shrugged. "I was born in shame, I was raised in shame. So long as I bring him ruin." Upon which she entered the room and saw Ivar, Sigurd, Guthrum, Horek and Gye, as well as several jarls and petty kings. It was a small army her uncles had brought in Northumbria, though not as large as that of Ubbe and Hvitserk in Wessex, an army still.

The sons of Ragnar owned ships and men enough to levy them in no time. Aslaug had been wise to gift them parcels of lands she had owned with time, though Siggy would never care to admit it. With their thirty ships for them alone and the twenty more of their allies, Northumbria would soon collapse.

"Sigvaldi, Eystein, welcome." Sigurd said.

Horek frowned upon seeing her but Siggy bore his eyes. "You're a boy." he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Sigvaldi has proven himself in battle and I shall grant him troops to lead. He abides by me. Don't you, Sigvaldi?" Sigurd said while Ivar rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Siggy felt dizzy with this new name. She cleared her throat as to make her voice deeper, harsher. "Yes, lord." a hint of pride came when she heard an almost mannish voice.

"Enough with civilities." Ivar groaned, annoyed."How many strongholds are ours, now?"

Sigurd tried to conceal his growing anger. "We control nearly half of Northumbria's upper territory. With so many nobles up north, kept away from the seat of Aelle's power it comes as no surprise. You would have thought more of his nobles would remain faithful to him and his line, but I guess power drives men." said Sigurd.

Eystein cheered at that and Horek gave a faint smirk.

Ivar yawled. "Doesn't it drives you, scald-prince? You are a half man if you do not seek power. That is what our father did." his hand hovered dangerously close to his sword as Siggy gritted her teeth, hardly concealing her will to bite him.

Sigurd licked his lips in a way that told of his irritation. "What use of power can you have if you do not control it? What use if it is to sever a line? I seek no wooden camp, no battlefield, no song. I seek walls of imperishable stones and sons to succeed to me and daughters to wed off to allies that would strengthen my grasp on lands that I shall hold! And you, brother? What will your legacy be? A special way of crawling?" a cruel smile spread on his lips. "There has been enough snakes in our family. You would do well to avoid the wild of Norway, that of Denmark and the north of Sweden, who knows, perhaps a Sigurd or a Bodvar would kill you and drink your blood."

Ivar chuckled, his eyes colder than ice, heart thumping in his chest, hand on the handle of his ax. "I will blood-eagle you before you do. And then, I will wear your eye around my neck. Mother should have never given you such a gift. It was mine from the beginning."

"That whore never gave me anything." seethed Sigurd.

Siggy stirred, uneasy on her spot, trying to to say anything that would betray who she truly was. If she spoke, Horek would know. She must act a man.

Ivar lost his smile. "Careful now. You are a word away from death."

Eystein groaned. "Enough! Your cocks are both equal in measure, now quit it with this game and let's move on to greater endeavors." Siggy noted he was still angered at her biting him.

Horek nodded. "You conquered great lands, now what?"

Ivar turned his head away. "Had I a say I would burn those nobles in their fancy little houses and be done with it but alas, stone does not burn that easily." he gave a grin. "Skinning them alive would do, though."

Sigurd sighed. "I sent a ship down to Ubbe and Hvitserk. They managed to take East Anglia but they'll need reinforcement. It seems as though the south of England is impossible to hold, however thanks to their rampage south, we managed to keep Aelle at bay. I say we must keep our position and conquer more seats of power. Meanwhile, I shall spend winter away, and try to gather allies. We need more."

Ivar frowned. "Where would you seek allies? We already roamed the Faroes, the Orkneys, the Hebrides! Loki! We even went as far as to ask aid from the Rus! We looked everywhere, whether Saxland, Finland, Rusland and we even sent word south. Most of them are much too awed and terrified of Lagertha to even consider aiding us instead of her bitch of a son!"

Sigurd shifted nervously on his seat. "There is still someone who can help; someone of our blood."

Ivar's eyes grew wide and he growled. "You think not!" he was gritty.

"Winter is softer there. I could train warriors and ask to him for our men to rest there in Winter, waiting to plunder England. It is close in reach to Wessex and East Anglia. We could go there easily and lead stealth attacks, raid and go back without being chased by Aethelwulf's men. We would even settle there, cornering the Saxon kings to the very last." Sigurd argued. "You can remain here in the meanwhile, though. You'll hold our positions and maybe you'll get to kill Saxons. You'll fight and make them fear you just as I know you can. I ask but one thing: wait for me to kill Aelle. I want to taste the flavor of his blood myself."

Ivar grinned. "Careful now, brother, you almost sound like a man." Sigurd grinned. "As for our strongholds, I agree, although I am not satisfied with living in another man's home. I'd rather have my own seat of power. We must keep up our conquest, weaken Aelle to the bone, then kill him, and sell his family as slaves. Only then will I be satisfied."

Sigurd laughed. "A rare thing to hear you agree with me! Very well, so then it is settled!"

"We also need steel and swords." Horek said. "Do you have enough silver to pay for them or should I ask to Bjorn?"

"You didn't call your master a king?" Ivar seethed. "Careful, now, he could hear you and come for your ass."

Gye snorted.

"I'll deal with silver for Frankish swords." said Sigurd. "Sigvaldi, you will come with me. I will need your men in case something arises with the Franks."

Siggy nodded.

"Do you fear something brother?" Ivar scoffed. "Oh I should not be surprised, fear suits you."

"I'll find the silver through the Saxon nobles we managed to yoke. If needed I will send raiding parties further south and I shall build an alliance ensuring our Frankish kin does not spend the silver we will hand over to him against us."

"He is a traitor." Ivar seethed. "He will stab you in the back as soon as he has the chance!" He shrugged smugly. "Not that I care, though."

"I'll be here to protect him." said Gye fiercely. Siggy smiled seeing her eyes sparkle as she met Sigurd's. Such a shame his own did not. It seemed the serpent swallowed any joy he might had, even when he sang and played a tune his eyes did not sparkle as much.

"No." Sigurd said. "I will go with only five ships. No need for the Franks to see us as threats. You will remain here in command of the rest of my ships. Can you manage with ten?"

Gye flustered. "That is – that is a great honor, my lord Sigurd." she stammered.

"In the meantime, we hear of more quarrels between the Saxon nobles." Eystein said. "My scouts and spies told me some of the young folks we placed in their fathers' thrones are planning revenge upon us to gain Aelle's trust. A warrior of mine, Thorbrand, was killed in the rebellious act of one. I say we kill them."

"They'll levy men and muster an army." Guthrum said. "There may be different battles we must fight at the same time if rebellion spreads."

"Not to mention the Scots and Picts invasions upon the northern border of Northumbria. If we are powerful here, we are also threatened." Horek added.

"Then we kill them all." said Siggy, trying to sound deep and manly.

Horek frowned harder, while Gye squinted at her. Siggy gulped.

"I agree, with Sig here." Ivar said, a toothy grin at display, cold and cruel. "We kill them all before winter settles in and then, Sigurd the _soft_ , you go to your kin in Frankia, sing him a little tune and whore yourself for swords."

"We cannot remain divided Ivar." Sigurd seethed, his eyes burning bright. Ivar shifted nervously at the sight of his eye. It was something he hid well that he feared serpents, especially those that reminded him of Aslaug. "I stay until winter settles in as you say and I go south for silver and swords. You stay here, you wage your little war, you conquer strongholds and muster cattle of horses for our warriors. You do as little destruction as possible and kill only to make them fear you."

Ivar grinned. "And when I am done, what? I wait for you? What is to say I won't kill Aelle or take the land for myself?"

Sigurd shrugged and drank some mead. "Take it if you must. You will not lord over it very long anyway. You lack patience and stillness. You lack _softness_." his grin grew wider.

Ivar bit his lower lip. "Who are you to decide? I may rule a city soon."

"That would suit our plans." Sigurd said.

"Wouldn't you want it? Wouldn't you be jealous, just as you are jealous our mother did not breastfed you enough?" there was a longing to hurt him in his voice.

"I have no interest in this land, only for revenge. I'll always have what mother gave us all and if I can, I will take back the land our father would have wanted me to have that Lagertha took so unjustly." he said with a fierce passion.

"Lord Sigurd," Gye sounded nervous. "Perhaps you could talk about it somewhere else." she glanced at Horek.

"Oh I know he is Bjorn's spy. I am no fool."

"No, but you're soft." Ivar hummed.

"Then kill him yourself since you are so hard!" Sigurd yelled, before a wide cruel grin spread over his face. "Oh, right, I always forgot. You never are."

Ivar tossed a dagger across the room and Sigurd dodged it. He was quick at this and fast on his feet. A dozens of years spent beside Ivar taught him, at least to avoid being killed in battle.

Ivar seethed on his seat, setting his jaw. "Never – again." his words swallowed by anger.

Sigurd unstuck the blade from the wood of the door while Guthrum bore an amused grin, Eystein a tired face and Horek a fearful one. Gye's eyes were hard. She wouldn't mind her brother gone for good.

"Horek will not say a word to Bjorn about my plans, for I am indeed _soft_ and I represent no threat at all." Sigurd said, toying with the dagger, his eyes a cold sea, the serpent resembling Jormungand in all its frightening might. "Will you, Horek?"

He gulped, trying to avoid his eyes. "No lord." her grew more daring. "King Bjorn will ask you about that himself."

"I have no doubt of it. He always like to have it all and control the others. He will see that I am not Ivar, though. He should not fear a soft Sig." his serpent eye went to Siggy. "No, he needn't fear any soft Sig."

"Are you threatening him, lord?" asked Horek under Guthrum's eyes betraying his ecstasy that Ragnar's sons would be at each other throats and he would not to soil his hands with their blood.

"Our father was a friend of yours." Sigurd said. "Of course I do not threaten you. Have you seen me? A scald. A half-man." he gripped Horek's armor as to shake him. "I couldn't possibly think of killing a warrior. Although I confess I prefer Gye, over there, to you." Gye looked pleased. "If anything," he whispered in Horek's ear. "You should be afraid of Ivar." it always did good betokening of Ivar's blood-rage. It was a leverage Sigurd thanked and cursed the gods for.

Ivar gave a toothy grin. "Your serpent frightens him."

"Not as much as you do." Sigurd returned a polite smile.

Ivar eased himself on his seat. "I agree to your plan brother, if it means I am to be rid of you for a season."

"I shall tell Hvitserk and Ubbe of what we did here. I cannot wait to meet them. It has been over a year."

"Magrethe would have had her child. Are you sure Ubbe will not come back to his family."

"He swore an oath that he will not come back to Kattegat until our work with Aelle is done. Then he'll hump her and he will have another child." Sigurd gave a grin at the memory of her soft breasts. "Or else he chose a concubine in East-Anglia and she gave him many sons already."

"I cannot wait for the day we kill Aelle." Ivar said.

"Me neither. Father will rejoice, wherever he is."

"He didn't die a warrior's death." Guthrum pointed out.

"That is why we must kill Aelle." Sigurd turned to Eystein. "Will you stay that long?"

He shrugged. "I plan on getting rich and then come back to my wife and child in Norway. My tenant must be waiting for me there. I'll witness the death of a king and the conquest of England. That will be tale enough to say I was amongst the sons of Ragnar."

"So long as you do not boast of it." Siggy shrugged, yielding to her desire to banter him.

Horek squinted at her again. Siggy suddenly felt uneasy as cold sweat ran down her spine.

"Do you have an issue with Sigvaldi, here, Horek?" asked Sigurd, hiding menace in his voice.

"No, lord."

"Good. For now, Beorthric hosts a feast tonight, and I intend to sing and play games." he drank some mead. "Then, we raid."

Ivar giggled. "We kill."

* * *

 ** _AND JUST LIKE THAT AFTER SEVERAL MONTHS CRYING OVER A CHAPTER THAT WOULD NOT WRITE ITSELF I PRESENT TO YOU THIS SHIT! BEWARE! I HAVE NEW IDEAS IN STORE FOR OUR GIRLS!_**


	8. 1-08: Visions

Aslaug was there to welcome her in the great hall, sitting next to Ragnar's empty chair. She held her head high, her hair reaching her waist braided as though she was a goddess. She was tall; taller than Lagertha. For a woman of divine descent she showed it well, and the hall displayed a lifetime of wealth with golden carvings, long tables, pelts and furs spattered across benches designed to welcome a hundred warriors. Her dress was of silver, her jewels were of amber and gold; her hall was large and she had made it larger, building a longhouse behind the drinking hall that allowed her to use the former private quarters as more space to welcome guests. When Lagertha lived here, it was a mere jarl's hall, now it had become a king's hall.

A pang of jealousy hit her as she stepped forward. She had not been greeted upon her arrival in Kattegat. She had strode all the way from the harbor to the hall without even an applause, only squinting folks and some whispers, which was only natural considering who she was: a legend, even in the town she had spent many years in.

She was expected to find a mourning town, a shithole of misery but found wealth and prosperity, a dozen merchant stalls lining the shore, foreign merchants selling spices and silver. She had heard them as she made her way across town alone with her guard, whispering about how well Kattegat was, about how the folks here loved Aslaug because she made them rich. It had been the start of a brewing jealousy and resentment. She was Lagertha. Her deeds outdid those of a woman who spinned gold.

Then she saw her, beautiful as always, untouched by time and the news of her husband's death. Lagertha gazed at her, marveling about her soft lips. Would they still be soft after all these years? Would she still be as good as when she slept with her when Ragnar was still a jarl - and alive? Yet still, she hated it; that her deeds were nothing in comparison. She couldn't stand it, this oblivion!

Aslaug gave one of her ever enigmatic calm smiles as she stood up. "Lagertha. Welcome." she beckoned a slave and asked him for mead and ale. "You must be both thirsty and hungry after such a long journey. Please, sit." she motioned benches near the hearth where she came to sit herself.

Lagertha set her jaw. "That is a fine town you have here. A town undefended."

Aslaug's smile grew cold. "I trust that you will enlighten me about it then, just as I know you can; you, the undefeated Lagertha." her face was close, so close. She could almost kiss her. "The living legend." she toyed with a lock of her hair. "You are as beautiful as ever."

Lagertha scoffed. "Not as much as you." without any warmth.

"Where are my sons?" Aslaug grew colder. "Last time they were riding to Hedeby at your invitation." her tone grew angered. "That is, if taking one of my slaves to lure them there was an invitation."

"They are all the same, the sons of Ragnar. They fall for nobody but slaves." Lagertha gave a sour laugh. "My son, then yours. Will they ever learn? They need to find a woman of power equaling theirs, not puppets they can toy with that breaks too easily. "

Aslaug grew fierce, her face as cold as ice, her eyes as blazing as fire. "Thorunn was strong. Her only mistake was looking up to you as who to be and not herself. I have no regrets freeing her. Bjorn loved her and you know it! I'd wager he still does! She was strong so that she brought him a strong daughter!" her eyes grew soft. "Not that any of you – any of us – care about her anyway." she grew fierce again. "I instructed Ubbe that should any of them desire to marry her and put a pup in her belly, she shall be free. I have ordered it at a ting. There is nothing you can't undo."

"Siggy was in your care." said Lagertha while her guard of men and women set themselves to the tables to drink and laugh.

"She was in Bjorn's care. Yet still, when he discarded her you did nothing." she sighed. "I should have kept a better eye on this one." her eyes grew aloof. "But I see I made the right choice. It was her fate."

"You would have trained her to be an obedient wife and that is what my son needs! Not a freed-slave cowering when something happens to her that happens to every warrior here!"

"Tell me," Aslaug smiled, stroking Lagertha's perfect cheeks. "Did it ever happen to you?"

Lagertha turned her hands down. "No. Because I am Lagertha. I do not falter easily."

Aslaug smiled. "Neither does she." she stood up. "Your son has better taste in women that you seem to believe. Thorunn is a strong woman and she begot a strong woman. She had strength in her veins and you shall one day realize that."

"Another one of your vision?" Lagertha scoffed, strolling beside Aslaug.

"No. Trust."

To her it matched magic. Here was a woman relying on not shred of former glory, on no divine bloodline weakened with time, on no magic, on no legend. Here was a woman resolutely herself. Lagertha huffed.

"I need to speak to you. Privately." she looked around the drinking hall for slaves, guards and warriors.

Aslaug sighed and nodded, then guided her behind the platform on which stood the thrones and on which the king usually oversaw the whole room. They entered a short corridor that opened on both sides to the pantry and the slaves' sleeping quarters to enter another hall, long and high, though less than the drinking hall. The center of the hall was an hearth, a table and stools circled with high pillars, then came her sons' private quarters, though they tended to sleep in their own cabin in the woods when they felt the need to escape their mother, and then, separated from the rest of the building was Aslaug's bedchamber she usually shared with Ragnar.

Aslaug sat by her hearth, near an impressive loom on which some piece of fabric was being woven. "Angrboda's work." Aslaug said with pride. "She is a fast learner."

Lagertha gave her words no answer.

"I wish I had seen my sons more before they departed to Hedeby. I have found a suitable match for Sigurd. He is to be the first to get married. Hvitserk and Ubbe are still so inconstant in their love and Ivar even less. There is no better match for my son but a princess. She will be terrified of his eye, for sure but she will be faithful to him." she gave a smile. "He will be important, that boy. I hope he still love me a little."

"Not as much as Ivar." Lagertha noted. "I have heard the rumors."

"Rumors. That is all." Aslaug said. "Ivar, my pride. He will be important too. At least I know he loves me. He thinks of me. Fierce warriors my youngests. My father passed onto them great things." things of a time long gone.

"Ragnar is dead!" Lagertha cut her short. "Your son live!" her pride survived, Lagertha's had been rattled. She could not have it. "You said once that you were a Volva, a seeress." she said, hardly hiding her grief and bitterness. "Have you seen his death?"

Aslaug lowered her head and gulped. so this day had come. She sighed and played a sad smile, though it resembled relief, for the man who had beaten her was dead and the son she had saved, the proof of her bravery came back alive. "Yes." she breathed. "I knew. I foresaw that Ragnar would be surrounded by serpents, and that my Valkyrie aunt would guide him through the hall of Valhalla."

"Liar!" spat Lagertha. "He was bitten by serpents! For him there is no such thing as Valhalla! This was no feat of glory, no battle! He died with no sword!"

"I know what I saw. Not all battles must be fought with steel and blood." said Aslaug. "Bravery is not determined by warfare!"

"You foresaw it! You could have prevented it! You could have told him off! You could have done something!" Lagertha's voice was accusing.

Aslaug gave a bitter laugh. "The world is full of 'what ifs'. I see possibilities knowing that I cannot prevent what happens. I am a Volva. My fate, as hard as it is, is to accept what I cannot change and what will be. I am merely a servant for my visions. I cannot be as free as you are, Lagertha, even if I wanted to. I cannot be free." but tonight, she would finally be set free, for this, she foresaw, and it was perhaps her most dreadful yet relieving vision.

"You are the reason he died! You killed him doing nothing!" Lagertha unsheathed the sword, quivering with rage.

Aslaug shrugged. "I told him to go with more ships. As if he would listen to me!" her face grew hard and unforgiving. "Would you truly think that I would try and save the man who spend so long beating and abusing me? You killed your own, Lagertha. I endured mine."

Lagertha panted with ire. "Don't." her tone was menacing. "Don't you dare soil his name with false accusations."

Aslaug grinned and came to face her, towering her with her Jotunn height. "You have not seen the bruises, the neglect, the insults, the lack of care. You, Lagertha, have grown blind by your past, gazing at it, while my eyes have been open to the future for the first time I saw light. You, the great shieldmaiden who killed her trash husband and took his lands as your own saw, knew even, and did nothing, because you chose not to see. But I see." Aslaug's words echoed with Lagertha's sudden fear of the divine in the queen's composure. "I see everything from what has been and what will be. I belong to eternity and what I see, you shall live and endure it."

Lagertha's eyes grew dark and she stepped forward, haughty, sure of herself and too filled with pride to even care about looking good. She was in the right. she knew she was in the right. she had been chosen by the gods for glory, her son would be just as great as herself, and Aslaug was nothing when once she could have been everything. "And what do you see?" her voice alone belittled her and her words.

Aslaug gave a smirk and calmly played with Lagertha's hair, entrancing her with her eyes, with her beguiling looks. "I see you, old, whacked and alone in a world where you are no longer relevant. I see a decay of glory, I see blood, ugliness." she stopped and closed her eyes, breathing. "I see a change I cannot bend. It does not bode well for you. I see a red wolf and your wretched body in its fangs and I see your blood feed a golden tree, while mine feeds a much larger one whose leaves will reach the stars. I see fire. I see death." she opened her eyes again, haunted and tired. "That is what I see. When you will come back from this room, you shall bend the knee for the first time and you will be but defeated. When it will all be done, you shall never be true again and people will call you deceitful."

"Is that so?" scoffed Lagertha. "Your words don't matter. I know who I am and I shall be greater than you! My son will be greater than yours, for he is a true son of Ragnar! Your Ubbe, as much as he resembles his father will never be as great a man as he was."

"Then I am glad." Aslaug said. "For he shall be greater and his name ripple through centuries." she gave a sad smile. "You son, on the other hand, you shall be his torment."

"I am his mother!" Lagertha seethed. "I will protect him from your magic! I will protect him from your sons! You took Ragnar away from me! You took my home away from me! You took my son away from me! You took my life away from me!"

"Did I?" Aslaug scoffed. "You walked away from those things on your own. It is easier blaming others for your own choices than blaming yourself." she gave a cruel smile. "How disappointing of you."

"I am the sole guardian of Ragnar's dream! You cannot even fathom it!" spat Lagertha. "You shall never be a part of it! You will never again be an obstacle!"

Aslaug closed her eyes and smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Do what you must." she breathed. As a seeress, she could but embrace her fate, for she knew it inevitable.

Lagertha's eyes grew wet with tears of anger. "You took him away from me twice. It is the last wrong you shall ever do to our world." With a prideful glare, a haughty stance, she thrust her blade in Aslaug's chest, drawing her closer, twisting the blade in her flesh, bearing a fierce and hateful face, her battle face. Aslaug smiled at her and pulled herself closer. Puzzled and confused as to why she would smile dying, Lagertha's confidence faltered and finally she released her on the floor of the hall, for her to die out in a pool of blood.

Lagertha knelt to her, torn between guilt that she had killed an unarmed woman who surrendered her throne to her, but also sadness that she had killed a woman who was once her friend. But she killed and she persuaded herself that it was for the best, that her reasons were certainty and truth.

Aslaug touched her cheek, marking her with her own divine blood. Lagertha flinched and Aslaug's hand dropped. The torments of guilt and turmoils of hatred and warcraft came to overcome Lagertha and above Aslaug, all she could do was show certainty with a face conveying that she had always been the better woman. It couldn't be otherwise.

Her foe lying on the floor gave a smile and it faded as her sight wandered far beyond the moment. She gave a ragged breathing full of blood. "The hall is ablaze." she hoarsely said, in a final breath, tears rolling down her cheeks as her eyes riveted on the ceiling.

Lagertha stood up and glowered at the dead seeress, her last words lingering to form questions and worries that scratched her certainty. the hall was fine, and no fire had started. Lagertha left the room, her blade soaked with blood. 'The hall is ablaze'. This was perhaps Aslaug's last prediction and it would haunt the shieldmaiden until the day of the fire.

* * *

Lagertha looked at the massive hall in front of her, a mix of guilt and pain in her chest. The walls around Kattegat had taken a good shape but the town was forever stifled in between those walls. As she had stridden through the town towards the great hall, she had been welcomed with taut smiles and hasty greetings. They were still wary of her, she could feel it.

A line of her shieldmaiden made an alley for her to enter the hall and she found Bjorn, sitting on a bench, eating with Torvi and his children. She noticed little Gyda and gave her a grin. She was so much like hers, yet so different. She was a reminder that her Gyda was dead, as well as a part of herself. So much had changed and as much as she expected Siggy to come and embrace her, Aslaug to greet her, they weren't there and it added to her guilt that she had killed Aslaug and not mourned Siggy enough. She tried to forget it. She had her reasons and they were just. They must be just.

Torvi rushed to greet her, her dress a fine example of good silk, her apron lined with gold, her jewels golden and her hair braided much like Lagertha's. "Lagertha, welcome." she asked servants to bring ale.

Lagertha looked down, recalling Aslaug's warm welcome and warm blood. She recalled Gyda dying on this very floor. She ruled over it now, ruled over the constant longing for her daughter's voice and laughter. Everything was gone now. Even warmth. Now it always felt cold.

"You are most kind Torvi. How are the children?" as always Lagertha gently placed her hand on Torvi's arm, her faithful shieldmaiden.

"Refil and Erik are growing restless. I am afraid I can no longer handle them as much as I used to." Torvi said coyly.

Lagertha gave a smile. "Children are often like that. Boys more than girls. At least you have Gyda."

Torvi chuckled. "They are fit for their mother."

"And their father." Bjorn added entering the room, Refil under his left arm, Erik over his shoulder giggling. "Mother!" He handed his sons to a slave and strode to clasp Lagertha in a long embrace. "It has been too long."

Lagertha closed her eyes, inhaling her son's musk, so different from the softness of his young years. A yearning suddenly sprang, a yearning for all those happy years, when the world had seemed more simple. She released him and eyed him head to toes. "You have grown burlier, Bjorn. Is that a man I see? What of my little boy?"

Bjorn rolled his eyes with frustration. "Must you tell me that always? I am a man, mother. I have been for a long time."

Lagertha's eyes fluttered, She shook her head with a nervous smile. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"I have heard you were coming days ago. I have been told you were inspecting your stronghold to ensure the jarls' allegiances. Why come here in the middle of Winter instead of remaining south in Hedeby?" Bjorn squinted.

Lagertha faltered for a moment, unused to her son's mistrust. "I came to see my son and my grandchildren." Her eyes traveled round the hall. "I don't see Siggy." her tone suggesting rebuke.

"It's being taken care of."

"Good. You know how much we need this alliance." she almost seethed.

"Why have you come here?" Bjorn asked again, arms crossed on his chest.

Lagertha made a quick motion of her head and warriors spread out to every corner of the hall while slaves carried chests. She had decided to set her winter quarters there and there was no telling the high queen no.

"Come with me. I need to entertain you with many things, my son."

Reluctantly, Bjorn followed her behind the throne, through the corridor and into the very same hall Aslaug used to sit at her loom. The loom was gone, now. Instead, wooden swords lay across the ground while bedsheet hung loose over the beds. Lagertha gestured to a stool as to welcome Bjorn to sit.

"This is my hearth." Bjorn snarled.

"I know."

"What do you want to tell me?" he crossed his arms on his chest defiantly.

Lagertha sighed a heavy breath. "Are you happy?"

Bjorn rolled his eyes. "My father, long ago, told me that happiness is nothing if not a lie. There is no happiness here."

"And yet you have a wife, a daughter."

Bjorn scoffed. As if it was enough for happiness. Happiness was a thing of the legends, a thing of the peasants, not a thing fit for mighty heroes whose deeds would one day rest in unfading sagas. "Which one would that be, mother?"

Lagertha's eyes hardened. "Torvi." she said. "And Gyda."

"Torvi is not my wife." Bjorn's teeth grated as he uttered the words.

"She could be."

"No."

"Then she must be." her voice suddenly lost all warmth to retain only steel.

Bjorn squinted, glowering. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Lagertha seethed back. "You must marry Torvi." said Lagertha. "I ask you not as your mother, but as a queen. Your sons must be legitimized and inherit her lands. she is a fine woman, a beautiful one, young and strong, a good chieftain, loyal and a good shieldmaiden. She is rich and can provide space to plow. With her as a queen, your father's old dream of a unified Denmark under single flag, of a united empire reaching even Saxlands to Uppsala, with more space to farm than any king ever had since the reign of the old kings of then who settled in Seeland will be true. Bjorn, you must marry her. For your father's dream, for his legacy, you must."

"What of mine?" asked Bjorn with sadness and rage. "What of my dreams, mother? What of my legacy? why can't you set me free of your shadow?" he turned his arm ring around his wrist, its weight too overbearing to stand. "You cast your shadows too high. around me it feels night." he said so almost as a child, the anguish of a cage filling his voice.

"Your sons legitimized, your legacy will be insured. with her as a queen, you shall raid again and avenge your father in England." she ruffled his hair like she used to when he still was a whiny boy. "No matter what, I am proud of you, my son. You shall be a great king. and Torvi must be your queen, for she will rule when you are away, raiding." such as she had been when she still warmed Ragnar's bed, such as Aslaug had when she was still alive. the memory gave her a pang of guilt.

"My brothers will never let me set foot in England. they are far too engulfed in grievance for their mother's death." Bjorn said, almost accusing. "You had your revenge and it might have stripped me of mine. If I cannot kill Aelle, or even shed his blood, it will be on you."

"You will go still. I can see the ache for raiding on your face. You'll promise them this and that and they will accept you. Ubbe is temperable. He will not object and given proof of good faith, you will coax him to your side. The rest will follow well enough and you can count on Sigurd to do the reasonable thing. You must not let them steer you. It must be you who steer them. You are their king." She clasped his hands around hers. "I have kept you from the sea for far too long."

"What of my crown? If I am king, what of my kingdom? What of my liege?"

Lagertha's hand travelled up to her son's cheek. "Everything I do, I do for you and for your father. I must unite Denmark and Sweden soon so that my son inherit a kingdom far larger than his father's. Once you marry Torvi, I'll set to conquer her lands in her name and that of your sons."

"And Guthrum?"

"He will be a jarl and your sons shall seek council to him. They will be his king and he shall foster their sons." her hand hovered over the pommel of her sword. "First, your marriage, then the conquest, then Uppsala."

Bjorn flinched. "Uppsala?"

"The closer to the gods, the more legitimate to their realm. If we are to overshadow the Christian kingdoms of Frankia and Wessex, we must show them something to be reckoned with. A force to match their own. Our own empire."

"Is this truly about my father?" Bjorn's eyes narrowed.

"It is. It is my way of honoring him, of avenging him."

"Does Torvi know?"

"I do." Torvi said while entering the room. "So long as my eldest rules over his father's lands, I will stand by Lagertha. My sons will not be denied what is rightfully theirs. And I will not relinquish what is mine by right."

Bjorn closed his eyes, a heavy sigh blown away in exhaustion, "I am married already."

"She abandoned you and your child. Thorunn is lost." Lagertha stood up and came by Torvi's side. "It is time you look what is in front of you. Torvi is nobility. Thorunn was a slave. One is gone, the other is right here." her face grew sharp as a blade. "A marriage in exchange for your freedom."

Bjorn stood, eyes hard and icy, heart icier. They were right. Thorunn was lost. It was highly time he forgot her.

"So be it."

* * *

 ** _HOHOHO! Long time no see y'all! My finals being behind me I finally had time to write a bit about this story and I know it has been a long time since I last updated but between that and my fantasy original fiction and the assignments and my studying - and the slow draining of my sould and energy - I guess I wasn't quite in the mood. But I'm back! This time with a long chapter I judged better to split in half so have this part now and the next one will come tomorrow hopefully. Not a lot of Sig and Boda in here but I write what I want to write and that's that. Anywhoo! Enjoy the chapter!_**


	9. 1-09: Of freed slaves and peril

She strolled down the marketplace, all eyes on her, queasy, reaching for her swollen womb. She could tell they still saw her as a slave. Even dressed with queen Aslaug's old dresses, arrayed with silver, hair reaching her waist, coins in a heavy purse, key, scissors and a dagger fit for the wife of a desitute prince, Magrethe still felt like a slave around here. Her child was but a shackle further. Her marriage started to smell like slavery all over again.

If it were for her, she would have joined Ubbe in Wessex. If it were for her she would run the household of a jarl, a king even, if she was so bold as to tempt the Fates. She would not be satisfied with a farmstead. She could count lager numbers but accounted smaller poorly. She knew she was capable of the feat.

Instead she contented with what her husband wanted, did his every wishes, his every whims – like a slave. It was the fate of wives after all.

A man glowered at her but she took no notice of it. Rather, she took the full notice of it but let it slide around her like she was made of something more than mere flesh.

Let them glower, when she will be queen, they shall cower. Perhaps she will make them grovel to win her every favors. The thought was of honey. She knew it a dream, Ubbe being reluctant to take on the throne that was rightfully his and was usurped by Lagertha.

She still quivered thinking about that fateful day she was "borrowed" to serve a darker purpose; keep the sons of Aslaug afar for the mighty shieldmaiden to take over Kattegat. Her wrists still felt numb at times, the ropes had almost cut her to the bones. She had been treated as little as a bowl. Even fawl were provided better care than she had been. She had been gagged and whipped into playing the part of a seductress, thrown into the princes' beds. She had left a slave and returned a whore, all her pride slaughtered, all humanity crushed. She had wanted to die then.

Then sweet Ubbe freed her and married her in spite of it all. Sweet Ubbe and his sweet dreams, his sweet eyes, his sweet hands and his sweet newly-forged shackles. Were she a queen, she would take her life back, grasping it tight and steering it wherever she wanted.

She was not a queen. She was nothing. A look at Lagertha and her minions were proofs of that. At least Aslaug asked her questions. Lagertha just took. She didn't need permission. Why should she?

The thought made her heart pound in her ribcages, as though it tried to burst through her frail bones. She was weak. Fear made her weak. She hated it.

Heavy breaths came in, as well as tears, violent and quick. She couldn't breathe.

A hand landed on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" Helga asked.

Magrethe wiped off her tears and tried to steady her breathing. "Yes. Yes I am." she croaked, voice hoarse and thin.

She had been brought lower than the ground. She would rise higher than summits.

Helga took her arm in hers and strode down the marketplace with her. Her smile was gentle, her hands soft. Magrethe almost ached from so much tenderness.

"You must rest. Your child will be restless if you do not." Helga said.

"I need to tend my house."

Helga frowned. "You have slaves for that, don't you?"

Magrethe flinched, tears pearling on the corner of her eyes. "Never slaves. I'll never have them." her voice was cold, a dangerous edge covering it.

"Why not? Isn't Ubbe a Prince? Isn't he an important man?" Helga's voice softened. "As his wife and the master of your household, you could consider having them. It is seemly for a woman of your standing to get slaves."

"I was a slave." Magertha's voice was so thin it resembled a whisper.

"You were freed. You are a free woman. A free woman has rights."

"A free woman is not free when married."

"To a prince. A prince's wife will always be under the yoke of power. If you are to be a prince's wife, you must at least have servants." Helga said. She released her soft grip on Magrethe's arm. "You must have them to take care of you when you are busy with overseeing your husband's estate."

Magrethe winced. "It is hard. I used to do everything myself."

"Take it one day at a time. You can start with one servant. That way you'll still do chores."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Even if I had a servant, this wouldn't feel like me." her nostrils flared with anger. "And even with a presence in my house, it would still feel lonely without my husband." It would be lonely even then. She had no friends. Not even Helga she could consider a friend. She was completely and utterly alone. Who would want a slave as a friend while other options existed? Who would stand by her and understand her? No one.

"You remind me of someone." Helga forelornely said. "She left Kattegat. I've always wondered what became of her."

"What was her name?"

"Thorunn." the sounds rolled on her tongue like soft thunder. "Aslaug freed her. She was – is Siggy's mother."

Magrethe scoffed. "The broken shieldmaiden? The other slaves used to sneer at her in the barn. Said she was weak. Ungrateful."

"She was lost." Helga said with a shrug. "So are you."

Lost? Perhaps. Ever since she was freed, she had felt aloss with herself. Before, she was nothing, just a tool to be used, freed, she became her own woman, with a name, dreams, ambitions, things of humanity. She was weak, perhaps. She wondered if the slaves sneered at her now. The ungrateful bitch who whored her way to freedom and power. The slave who would want to lie with a prince. She had never pondered about who she was, or perhaps pondered too much. For now she was a wife, but she wanted to be queen. At least queens were remembered. At least, queens knew themselves.

"I thought you would want to know: Lagertha is back." Helga said with utter concern.

Magrethe's blood iced in her veins, cold shivers running down her spine, feeling like crawling in her skin, ears ringing, heart teeming. She was alone. Undefended. Her house could burn and herself with it. Lagertha could send men to rape her, or else she could come, beat her and force her into chains. She couldn't be a slave again. She couldn't be whored for the queen's best interest. She was free and would remain so.

She lurched towards her house. "I must go."

"Magrethe?" Helga tried to hold her back.

"I must go." Magrethe said again, her heart pounding. "Thank you Helga, but I must go."

Her feet strode, then ran. She hurried to her house, counting what she would need, gauging what to take, what route to march, how she would be able to escape in case everything went bad. She would need to leave Kattegat, find allies for Ubbe, find something, anything to keep her away, safe, far from the town and its queen.

And then what? She would cower in her little corner of the world? She would raise her children in a wolf's den? What use would that be? She would be tracked down even then. Better die by fire like in the sagas, like the queens of old, than flee like a coward. Surely there was something to be done, to take advantage of this dire situation.

Surely she could rise from her ashes and thrive in Lagertha's shadow. Surely her fear would allow her a spot by the queen's side until she knew enough to feed Ubbe with and establish a plan. Surely she could play the part of the obedient little minion well enough. Surely Lagertha wouldn't suspect anything. Surely she would keep her alive only to have a better use. Surely she would be killed but she was done cowering. Queens didn't cower. They rose.

She would lower her eyes, always, feel the knot of fear tighten in her throat. She would shudder at her touch, taste the venom on her tongue when she would speak with her, hate herself when she would bow, despise everything about herself in her presence; she would loathe how debased she had been and fear strike at every corner of the city, she would have nightmares of her, but she would withstand it all proudly. She was the wife of a prince. She had seen worse.

She was to act like her bitch. Anything for Ubbe. Anything for herself.

* * *

A blade came close to her face and Solveig dodged in a haste, rising her shield to counter another blow. A volley of arrows rained down the battlefied. Chtak chtack chtack chtack. She almost ran to avoid them but they kept cleaving the air. Between the warcries and the wails of women and children who had not yet taken shelter uphill she roared a cry of her own and fought her way through the chaos and deafening clatter of steel against steel, of ripped flesh and fresh blood melting the thin crust of fallen snow.

She barely saw the next warrior rampaging and raving towards her, but she thankfully hit his jaw with the rim of her shield and drove her blade throught his chest twice for good measure. Another one came and her breathing grew heavier. This one was tall and hard-seasoned, his muscles sharp and his aim sharper. She ran in a dark and narrow alley between two houses and let go of her shield as the man followed her, his bulky figure darkening the whole scene.

Solveig swallowed and unsheathed a dagger, her hand firm around the shaft of her ax. She nimbly stepped forward lithe and quick, dancing in between the smashes and blades of the warrior that slit the wooden buttresses asunder. Her dagger in hand she slit and slashed, rampaging of her own and caught the warrior's blade in mid-air. Her heart skipped a beat, her fear sharpened, but she had to go through it. She needed to survive. This was why Thorunn had trained her. Protection.

She felt the sting of a cut and the throb of a punch that send her on the ground, rattled and exhausted.

"Shit." she spat and it was blood. "I'm so tired." she breathlessly groaned.

This was just yet another battle, another brawl; one of those she had known ever since she was a girl. If there was rest it wasn't now, amidst battle and carnage and fear. She fought her growing anxiety and stood up. Survive. She just had to survive.

Her steps grew lighter and she quicker, and if she was punched from times to times, getting rid of her shield made it all the more easy for her to fell the man with her hatchet. She eventually caught his throat with her blade and stabbed it with her dagger until his massive brawn was down on the snow, obtruding the alley.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt herself gag. Her whole body felt like agony and she was sure she would be bruised. Her hands would be scarred, her face would be swollen and she would not see with her right eye for a while. She bled from nostrils, lips, mouth, hands, arms and guts, but she was alive and she had some fight left yet.

She sniffled and gripped her weapons, reeling out, dizzy and exhausted, and brandished her shield to protect herself from another volley of arrows.

She caught sight of an archer. She laboriously ambushed him and snapped his neck.

She was ambushed by three men. She roared and gutted them, working mechanically while striving to survive.

Another man came at her. A lad, barely older than Siegfried. He was shaking, she could see, but it was war and war has no mercy. She thrust her axe on his head and cracked his skull open.

She reeled and laboriously killed another man, and another and another and another, until her path became clear and she saw her: Thorunn, her face half painted in black, her eyes as red as ever, surrounded by her own men, berserkers wearing little but wolf and bear skins hollering war-cries, showing teeth, exposing their tatto-and-blood-laden bodies to their foes, shaking them to the bone.

Solveig let a growl of her own join them and bared her teeth. The sun dipped slowly below the horizon, sinking, red and bloody, while all around blood blurred with light. It smelled of rotten corpses, of shit and blood, of metal and sea spray, it reeked of sweat, it tasted of flesh and blood, it blazed with fire and sparse flames, it clattered with hollerings, desperate pleas for mercy.

Thorunn was a sight to behold. With little consideration for herself, she was fighting her way to the quays, felling man after man, her own berserkers fighting beside her. Solveig saw her being punched, being cut, being tossed around in the battle, but she kept smiling, as though her place was there, in between vengeance and fury. Whatever she was when Helga knew her, she wasn't that person anymore; she was more beast than woman and Solveig squinted to see her ripping the throat of one of her opponents with her bare teeth.

"Fall back!" someone screamed.

But it was too late. Some of the ships were already burning and Thorunn's remaining troops were smearing tar, oil and ale on the decks of those that remained.

Solveig allowed herself a quick survey over the scene. The battle had died down to the harbor and some of the better trained villagers were battling against archers, some coming to slaughter them up close, others using their own bows and arrows, shooting from behind walls to avoid enemy arrows.

Solveig huffed and trudged towards the archers, protected by young warriors it seemed. One of them flinched every time a berserker hollered.

Solveig slit his throat.

Then she proceeded to stealthily cut them down one by one, but was soon noticed by what seemed to be an experienced warrior who stood in front of her while the remaining of his men ran to the waters. Their was a broken shieldwall. It had yielded as soon as Thorunn's charge broke through their defenses, as soon as fear had settled amidst their ranks.

Solveig settled firmly on her spot, ready to fight was promised to be her last fight. Gods she was exhausted! Her breathing seemed to echo all around her. Peace settled in in place of fear. She was ready.

Her trance was broken by a gurgling sound behind her. She swiftly turned around to see another warrior, pierced through and through with a spear. Then her eyes fell on Siegfried, spear in hand, eyes wide with terror, gagging and reeling. It was his first kill. Her brother. Her pure little brother!

She was suddenly struck by the rim of a shield. The world danced around her, her teeth rattled, a chime covered every sound and for a moment she didn't know if everything was real or not. A throbbing pain awoke on the side of her head. She was bleeding. She coughed out some blood and scrambled to her feet, but fell again. Her sight faded, and faded.

She she saw it. The warrior. Hand firm around his shaft. Sword drawn. Shield up. Decades of battles carved on his towering body. And in front of him, her frail little brother. Red-faced laden with freckles, red-haired, small and fresh. A lad with barely a beard. A mere spear – a stick – in hand. Terrified.

Her blood icened in her veins. He would die.

The warrior rose his sword in the air...

"No!"

She parred with her shield, the rush of energy pulsing through her every limbs. Her arm was sent back with the impact, but already she was counter-attacking, ripping his sword-hand with her hatchet, yoawling, growling, roaring. She cut through the flesh then through the bone and the warrior screamed and screamed and she took the sword from his hand while he hit her back with the shield and finally he let go and she took the sword and sent it through his head. Suddenly his grasp released her and her fell on the bloodied ground.

Solveig's face was streaked with tears and blood and spit. When she turned around, Siegfried's eyes were still wide and his face had taken the color of fear, of terror.

Solveig's erratic breathing sent her crying. Her shaking hand stroked Siegfried's cheek, smearing blood on his pristine skin. She slowly drew a trembling breath.

Siegfried pressed his own hand on hers and nodded, gulping and sobbing.

She closed her eyes and gave a faint smile.

Only one ship was not burning now. It almost sank with all the warriors retreating on it, the ones still in the water finished off with a rain of arrows, drowning, left bleeding to death. And on the quays, red and bloody was Thorunn, looking at the ship plowing its way away from the partially destroyed village.

The night fell on corpses, on dead warriors and dead villagers, none of them Solveig had truly spoken to. But she knew them. She had relished their laughter, their stories and their smiles. They were dead now, farmers and traders turned warriors for a single night when they had to step up. And now they were dead, weapons in hands unfit for them.

"May the gods reward them for the lives they've led and the death they'd have." she wheezed as she scrambled up to Thorunn on the quay.

As she saw her, Thorunn gave some sadness away but it was concealed by the black part of her face; that which gave her the allure of Hel, that which bore her scar, that which had been molded in iron. "You fought well." she said with a half-voice.

Solveig's whole body quivered and begged for a moment's rest but Borghild would come back soon enough. Now, among Thorunn's fiercest warriors, she needed strength. She needed them to see her an equal, to admire her, to respect her. Using the last shreds of her willpower she steadied herself on her spot and gave a long breath.

Thorunn frowned. "Borghild will kill me. This will be a long recovery."

"I'm not dead I reckon."

"I am glad. I would hate it if my little sister were to die before she had bloomed fully."

Solveig wanted to laugh but it strained on her chest. "Quite a battle. Never seen one so violent before."

Thorunn shrugged, half a smile on her face. "There will come others that will demand more of you."

"Not as much is all I ask." the village burned behind them and already people were putting out the fires while the berserkers carried their injured into the great hall and finished off their enemies that were still breathing. "Who were they?"

"The ships belong to the king in Uppsala. They fly his banner. The warriors, well, a few are his but Olaf recognized some as coming from Saxland." Thorunn grabbed a sword from the wooden pontoon. "Frankish swords. Those were no ordinary warriors. They must have some strong and powerful allies."

"Mercenaries?" Olaf, a towering brawny man, asked.

"Not quite. Theirs was a sharp warcraft. Mercenaries wouldn't have fought so orderly. Who rules in Saxland?"

"A man called Louis."

Siegfried had stepped forward. He had clumsily given his voice a deeper tone and he was red to the root of his hair. His eyes almost glazed when Thorunn noticed him which made him squirm and gasp. Solveig gave a faint smile full of tenderness for her awkward brother.

He ran his hand on the back of his neck. "I- the merchants said so – I – I listened. That's all." he stammered.

"What else is there that you can tell us, boy?" asked Olaf as gently as possible given his stature. It was almost comical seeing a man so brawny adressing a lad so scrawny.

"I – I heard from a merchant in Novgorod that king Louis has have issues with rebellious earls of late. Some want their independence from the kingdom Charlemagne left his grandson. Their ambition lay north as I have heard and they recently came together to conquer Jutland. Louis is adamant in letting them attack there but still, he resolved on thwarting their little rebellion."

"They cannot seek help to Kattegat or the southern petty kingdoms of Norway. One of them albeit big and cohesive is the one they seek to conquer and we know that the high queen does not take conquest fondly. The others are too entertwined in their petty wars to help the earls." Olaf continued. "This only means that they went to the king in Uppsala for help and he agreed to help them."

"Makes sense given how the king could takes Kattegat's attempt at claiming lands in Gotaland." Thorunn finished. She grinned. "It doesn't matter. They're all dead now."

"Why attack here? What tells us they will not come back?" Solveig asked, fear settling back in.

"They _will_ come back." Thorunn said with certainty. "Because we have made this town a thriving place and places like this are seldom rife around here. They will come back because we are rich. We have prevailed but for them it is only a setback, but a setback enough for us to prepare, to build walls and train more men so that next time, they will not get past the shore. Winter will be good for us in that effect. I want a wall."

"And the women? The children?" asked Borghild, shoving her way to Thorunn. "What of them when we will get attacked? What of them and what of life when we will live under threat?" her voice was hard, a dangerous edge to it.

Thorunn frowned. "Train the women to protect the children and elderly. Valhalla is honorable but delaying the feast with Odin has its perks." she gave a heavy sigh. "I am aware of the peril I brought upon you and I am grateful that you let me stay, but I believe we need more victories to fully coax fear of us into their hearts. For victories there needs to be wars and raids, and we can prepare for that."

Borghild cast a glance to the berserkers, her eyes hard and menacing. "After your victory tonight more men will come."

"I believe so."

"They will need to be disciplined. If they attack us instead of defending us that will be an issue."

"They will not. Not if they care for Valhalla and their balls."

"Lady, we will not." Olaf's booming voice said. "I swear. On this arm ring I swear." the gold around his forearm glinted.

Borghild pursed her lips, dissatisfied. "Know this Thorunn: you saved us many times but there will come a time you won't be there to protect us. What will you do, then? What will you do when this town is in ruins?"

Solveig placed a light hand on Borghild's shoulder. "Trust in our childern to learn and fight, to be fearless and cunning in battle. I hear your worries but Thorunn is not our only asset here."

"You?" Borghild wrinkled her nose. "You are away, always! Either you follow your brother either you wander on your own!"

"I don't mind." Siegfried casually said.

Borghild raised a finger which made him look down at once and blush yet again. "Our children will die!"

"Everyone dies." Thorunn bitterly said. "Little girls die, young mothers die, old crones die! But teach them how to fight and they delay their deaths." her gaze fell on Solveig, pride filling her eyes. "Had I not come, had I not fought, many a girl would have died and this village would be nothing but ashes on a charred mudhole. Our being attacked and raided is only the price of success. It needs some getting used to but in my experience, we thrive just as well under siege." she grew softer. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Never."

"I know that." Borghild suddenly seemed ten times older, her hands knobblier, her face wrinlkier, her skin ashier, her back more withered. "Then what of Uppsala? What of the king of Saxland? What of those powers that are no match for us? We are but a town in the end; We do not belong in the greater scheme of things."

"So long as I live, this place will remain untouched by those kings. So long as I am here, we are independent; no jarl to govern us, no king to rule us, just the ting." Thorunn said; "I screamed it to them, you know. I said that this town was under my protection. Whomsoever would be so foolish as to attack us will perish. I swore it. I am a woman of my word."

"And we will be beside you in that endeavor." Olaf said.

"I'll – I'll learn how to fight, Thorunn." Siegfried stammered. "For – for us I mean."

Solveig smirked. "I'll beat your ass."

"Shut up!" her brother hissed, visibly vexed.

"We'll need all the strength we can get." Thorunn smiled and Siegfried choked. "I will protect you. I swear."

The king of Uppsala sought their lands and was helped by the Germans. Kattegat sought the lands of the king in Uppsala. Each of the players on the tafl board made their way to them, a most dreadful thought.

Fate worked in mysterious ways. Without seeking it, her path led straight back to Kattegat, to war, to battle.

To Bjorn Ironside.

* * *

 _ **Alright so I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It'll probably be a while until the next update but it's getting there (I guess). I kind of like what I wrote here and I am proud of how the battle came out. Let me hear your thoughts y'all. See you next time.**_


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